


Stowaway Bitty

by HistoricallyDragon



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones (Undertale), Bittytale -Freeform, Blackmail, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, New Job, Post-Divorce, Seasonal Job, Sexual Harrassment, Starting Over, haunted church, monster candy, museum, tiny house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2020-11-06 23:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 50
Words: 81,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoricallyDragon/pseuds/HistoricallyDragon
Summary: Recently divorced and too proud to tell anyone how bad she's really doing, the last thing Jennifer wants is a Bitty.Luckily, she doesn't get a vote.





	1. Burn the Ships

“I nailed the job interview! They want me to start Monday.” Jennifer’s grin was huge as she updated her parents over the phone. “And I meet with my new landlord tomorrow to sign papers and get the keys. By this time tomorrow I’ll be moved in.”

“_That’s great sweetheart! Your mom and I are so proud!”_

Jennifer’s grin softened a little. “Thanks, Dad, I appreciate that.”

“_But, you know that if you need anything…?”_ He prompted.

Jennifer felt warmed by the silent promise, and guilty. “I’ll be sure to let you know.” She lied. “Thanks.”

“_We love you._”

“Love you too.”

“_Bye-bye_.”

“Bye.” The line disconnected but Jennifer clutched her cell tighter, trying to cling to the familiar comfort of her father’s voice. “Bye…” She repeated into the silent motel room.

The property she would be renting was one of those ‘tiny houses’ that were somewhat in vogue. This one had been neglected for years and wouldn’t have water or electricity for a while. Jennifer had ‘nailed’ the job interview by being the only person to apply for the position in two years. The museum curator might have hired her if she’d walked in straight from the camp grounds instead of springing for a hotel room so she could shower. If she hadn’t paid for the room she'd have more leeway…

The painful, hollow feeling that had been stalking Jennifer for months made itself known. Jennifer shoved it aside. She forced herself to release her death grip on the phone and drop it on the bed before heading out of the motel room, not bothering to close the door behind her.

In her car, clothing and camping gear were piled high behind the front seats. Jennifer dug through it, searching for the additional week's supply of canned goods that were supposed to be in there -somewhere. She must have miscounted or something when packing because she’d barely found anything for breakfast and now it was still harder to find anything. It took a while and a lot of stuff was thrown in the front before her excavations turned up a can of Vienna Sausages and another of chopped spinach. It would have to do. Shoving everything else roughly back into place, Jennifer took the cans and her little plastic fork back into the motel room where she’d already hooked up her laptop. The door was again left open, letting in the noise of crickets and the interstate until moths started fluttering in to dance on the light fixture, annoying Jennifer enough to shut it.

Jennifer spent the next several hours working. It was miserable, low-paying freelance editing work -sometimes as little as seven cents a job- but it was miserable, low paying work she desperately needed. Her bank held just enough cash for first and last month’s rent on her new place and a half tank of gas. She had a little cash left to get through the weekend until the transcription money hit her bank on Monday, but not much to cover such a stupid miscalculation on food.

Whatever. She’d be fine. It was nothing Jennifer couldn’t handle.

And she would handle it without asking for her parents’ help.

Not that they wouldn’t help. They were good people wouldn’t hesitate to drop everything and drain their savings to fly to her aid. But Jennifer refused to ask. With three generations living in a one generation house and not enough income to go around, they really couldn’t afford it. Jennifer had been raised with love and pride, and it was love and pride that prevented her from asking for help.

Besides. She’d be fine.

Just fine.

The echo of that hollow pain made itself known again as Jennifer’s fork hungrily stabbed at the bottom of her can of spinach. She tossed it aside and focused on her laptop, trying to earn a few more dollars for that transfer on Monday. It wasn’t going to be much, but it would buy food and gas. Jennifer just had to make it through until Monday. Then she’d have a little money in the bank and a new job. Everything would be fine on Monday.

Probably.

Definitely.

Stop thinking about it and work.

Jennifer edited tiny job after tiny job, raking in the future pennies. She kept at it until late into the night when the screen blurred, then doubled in front of her. Still, she forced herself to finish a couple more jobs before quitting. The laptop was over warm to the touch when she closed it, the heat promising another major expense in the future. Jennifer only rubbed her hand against her pants to dispel the sensation and the worry as she crawled onto the stiff, uncomfortable motel bed. The pillow felt like it was stuffed with corn cobs but before Jennifer could think to retrieve her own pillow from the car, she was asleep.

~*~*~

Scuffing and scratching woke Jennifer.

What kind of self-respecting rat would be caught dead in a dive like this?

She held herself awake just long enough to be sure. No, not a rat. It sounded more like a bird. She’d have to let the bird out in the morning.

What kind of self-respecting bird would be caught dead in a dive like this?

~*~*~

The pipes squeaked and whined as water spilled into the tiny bathroom sink.

Why had the bird turned on the water?

Screw it. Let the bird bathe.

~*~*~

“OW! SHIT!”

“HUMAN, WAKE UP!”

Jennifer reared back from a dead sleep, landing with her rear on her feet and her hands clutching the back of her head, nursing what was sure to be a lump. “OW!” She squinted through the pain. Her smart phone slid off the craptastic pillow even though Jennifer was positive she’d left it on the desk. Broadening her search, Jennifer flinched when she saw the creature standing on the nightstand.

It was a skeleton Bitty. Chest puffed up absurdly with tiny little fists resting on his hips in a stance of confidence and command all wrapped up in custom black leathers and crimson highlights for extra flare -as if the crack through his socket wasn’t flare enough. He’d certainly be intimidating if he weren’t all of four inches tall.

To Jennifer, Bitties were like sports cars or brand name purses; expensive toys for people who wanted to show they had money to burn and gullible saps who believed they needed to burn money. Though, there was one additional thing she knew about this specific Bitty: he belonged to neighbors left more than a thousand miles behind her.

Jennifer struggled to find something to say, something to ask. What was he doing here? Trying to crack her skull open with her own smart phone. How had he gotten here? Stowed away in her car, eating her food. Why was he here? Because Jennifer’s life wasn’t enough of a flaming crap pile and the world hated her.

Wait.

A better, less paranoid answer might be available for that last question.

“_Why_?” She hissed, still rubbing at the back of her head.

“IT IS MORNING, HUMAN. YOU SHOULD HAVE RISEN AT A REASONABLE HOUR.” The Bitty sniffed aristocratically, or that’s what it would have looked like had he a nose.

“Why are you _here_?” Jennifer clarified angrily. “Why did you freaking tag along halfway across the country? Everything I own is packed in that trailer! I’m not going back!”

“ONE AS MAGNIFICENT AND INTELLIGENT AS I DESERVES TO SEE MORE OF THE WORLD THAN THAT PITIFUL HUMAN ‘CUL-DE-SAC’. YOU WILL SUFFICE TO FEED AND SERVE ME UNTIL A MORE SUITABLE HUMAN CAN BE FOUND.” The Bitty shrugged and waved a hand as if this was nothing she should be concerned about.

“Suitable human?” Jennifer sputtered. “Oh no. No, no, and no. You are not staying with me. I am taking you to the nearest police station and they’ll send you back where you belong.” She grabbed her phone and swiped at the screen. “I don’t have time for this…” She grumbled, pulling up the GPS. Forget time, she didn’t have the gas or money for this.

“IT WOULD BE AN UNWISE DECISION TO SPEAK TO HUMAN LAW ENFORCEMENT.” The Bitty warned lightly, crossing his arms and looking casually off to the side. “UNLESS YOU DESIRE INCARCERATION IN FEDERAL PRISON.”

“They only put criminals in jail.” Jennifer expanded the map so she could better see the smaller roads -every road but the highway was ‘small’ in this county. “And you’re going home!”

“IT WOULD BE YOUR INFERIOR WORD AGAINST MINE, WOULD IT NOT?”

Jennifer tapped her screen to re-center the map, then stilled as his words sunk in. She slowly lowered the phone and narrowed her eyes at the Bitty. “What was that?”

“YOUR WEAK PROTESTATIONS AGAINST MY INFALLIBLE TESTIMONY.” The tiny skeleton was smug and in control. “YOU STOLE ME FROM MY LEGAL OWNERS AND FLED ACROSS MULTIPLE STATE LINES.” He tsked and shrugged as if it this pitiful fate was quite beyond his machinations. “GRAND THEFT AND TRANSPORTATION OF STOLEN GOODS. THOSE ARE FEDERAL CRIMES.”

“You… you’d…?” Was he was blackmailing her?

It took several seconds for this to strike Jennifer as real. The little miscreant was blackmailing her! She had done nothing wrong and he was _blackmailing _her! “What the heck!?” She dropped her phone, all the better to make grand, flailing gestures, “Just what do you expect from me?! I’m BROKE! Real ‘homeless if this job doesn’t work’ broke! I can barely afford to feed myself much less -I don’t know- Bitty Chow or whatever!” Of course, this Bitty probably didn’t need special chow or pellets or whatnot: he’d been eating _her_ food. “Just what makes you think that qualifies as a ‘suitable human’ for you?” The Bitty shrugged. “No.” Jennifer grabbed her phone. “No…” She’d just take him to the police, there was no way they’d believe his bull-

Were Bitties supposed to lie? Would the police think they couldn't? If the cops put a call back to her neighbors and they said the Bitty was stolen, Jennifer would be arrested. She couldn’t be arrested! She couldn’t afford bail! Even if she could post bail, she’d lose both her house and her job before she got either of them! It had taken her months to find _this_ job near _this_ house. If she stayed in jail and beat the charges, she’d be left with _nothing_. Who knew what would happen to her car in that time? Again, Jennifer dropped her phone and shoved her hands through her hair, grinding her palms into her temples as they started to throb, trying to tamp down on the almost physical wave of sheer, undiluted stress that pressed on her. “No.”

Actually growling, Jennifer stood up and grabbed her phone -_again_. Cops were out. She literally could not afford to do the right thing. She activated the screen and blinked at the enlarged digital clock on her lock screen.

Checkout in twenty-five minutes or be automatically charged for another night’s stay. Lose another eighty-five dollars and be unable to pay rent. Live in the car until she was either paid, had to sell the car, or gave up on life and turned herself in.

“SHIT!”

Again the phone hit the mattress as Jennifer ran to the bathroom. She changed out of the previous day’s interview clothes and into something clean, then filled her water jug from the sink before grabbing all her things from the room and rushed out to the car where she tossed everything in the backseat. She didn't bother to close the car doors, just hurried toward the main office at a jog. Stopping short, Jennifer repeated her growling as she stormed back to her room and held the door open. “Coming or not?” She snapped.

The skeleton Bitty hopped from the nightstand to the bed, then down to the floor. His absentee nose was held high as he marched from the room with great pomp and dignity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often see Fell Bitties as being adorably and impotently angry and violent.
> 
> Not here! The Maleficent Razzberry will not stand for such mockery! He begins this Bittytale with the upper hand! MWEH-HEH-HEH!


	2. Homestead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home Sweet Home
> 
> Or... something like that

The landlord said there would be no water or electricity at the rental property. He didn’t know for how long. Had to ‘call a guy’, but it wouldn’t be this week. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, Jennifer signed the papers and paid the rent.

Back in the car, the little Bitty was standing on the dashboard doing his ‘king of all I survey’ routine. “Get off the dash. It’s not safe.” Jennifer snapped.

“I AM WELL AWARE, HUMAN!” The Bitty retorted. He hopped from the dashboard down to the passenger seat, landing on her jacket amid the mess of maps, papers, and other junk that had either been packed there or simply accumulated during the trip.

Jennifer fought the urge to growl some more as she started the car. They hadn’t spoken between the hotel and the landlord’s house, and they continued to avoid talking as she drove past the wooden “Hobbler Montana Welcomes You!” sign. Her gas gauge had fallen past the last painted stripe and Jennifer barely took in any of the town as she scanned for a gas station. She was relieved her engine still ran when she found one and parked in front of an open pump.

Carefully, Jennifer put twenty-five dollars in the tank, running over only by a couple cents. That, plus the payment to the landlord, left her about three dollars in the bank.

Don’t think about it.

Walking back to the driver’s side and without looking at the Bitty, Jennifer started digging around for loose change. The Bitty likewise ignored her, apparently studying the tour script Jennifer had been given. Jennifer found some quarters, a few nickels, some dimes and a smattering of pennies scattered in the glove compartment, cup holders, and storage pockets. Poking around in the console revealed some more pennies and a souvenir wooden nickel -splendid. 

Before she closed the side console, Jennifer’s eye snagged on a little green corner poking out from under her proof of insurance. She slid it free. A twenty. Jennifer had just replaced her insurance before the trip, there was no way she’d missed that twenty when tossing it in there. How…? Her gaze wandered toward the Bitty…

The stress, Jennifer decided and gave her head a firm shake as she left the car. The stress, then and now. It was a wonder she hadn’t crashed on the highway or stripped naked and run into the woods. She tried not to think about what else she was missing under all this stress.

Jennifer wandered the mart section of the gas station with phone in hand, adding up prices and calculating tax. She tried and rejected several options, fully focused on her task until a familiar jingle crackled through the overhead speakers. The radio ad was nearly over before Jennifer recognized it, grimacing at the familiar sound of a Punny Bitty crooning, “I love you, Mama!”

“Truth in advertising, my _ass_.” Jennifer said. The clerk behind the counter snorted. Jennifer jumped at the reminder that she wasn’t alone. Refusing to cringe, she dedicated herself to her task, pretending that she wasn’t blushing over the slip.

Finally, Jennifer settled on a case of condensed split-pea soup, three gallons of water, a loaf of local sourdough bread and a box of shelf stable milk. Her earlier snark appeared to have cheered the clerk who made friendly small talk while ringing up Jennifer’s purchase.

Her change was seventeen cents. Less than four dollars to her name, total.

Jennifer hauled the food and water out to her car, then used a plastic knife she’d filched from the condiments stand to spread some questionable yellow stuff labeled ‘butter product’ on one of the slices of sourdough. She set the ‘buttered’ bread on a paper napkin and dropped that in front of her little extortionist.

“WHAT IS THIS SUPPOSED TO BE?” He demanded.

“Lunch, eat it or starve. Just like mom used to make.” Jennifer replied, climbing back into the driver’s seat.

“Hmph.” The Bitty muttered, tearing a strip off and taking a bite while Jennifer set the GPS for her new address. “HUMAN! YOU MUST DEMAND REPARATIONS AT ONCE! THAT WORTHLESS BUSINESS ESTABLISHMENT SELLS TAINTED GOODS!”

“It’s called ‘sourdough’. It’s supposed to be a little tangy.”

“INTENTIONALLY SOUR FOOD?” The Bitty sounded skeptical. “I FIND THAT QUESTIONABLE.” He tore off a larger chunk of the bread. “TELL ME, HUMAN, IS THIS WHAT YOU EXPECTED!”

Jennifer sighed and took the proffered scrap, popping it in her mouth. The flavor was good, sharp but not overpowering. Delicious. The ‘butter spread’ tasted like plastic. It probably was. “The bread’s good.” Jennifer judged. “Just give yourself a chance to adjust to the new taste. Scrape off the butter stuff if you don’t like it.”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU INSIST.” The Bitty scoffed, though he ate the rest without complaint. Jennifer couldn’t resist a wry expression that she kept pointed at the road.

The rental was a few miles outside of town. At a weather-worn post with plastic numbers nailed to it, Jennifer turned off the main road and followed a dirt track nearly filled in with springtime sprouts. The trailer rattled behind the car as she steered past a broken split rail fence and through a natural arch of budding tree branches into a small, overgrown clearing with a shack in the middle.

Jennifer pulled the car behind the small house and killed the engine. Without the familiar engine and road noise, the silence felt tangible as they looked the place over. It might have been nice at one point. It must have been. Why would anybody intentionally build something a serial killer on the run might think suitable? Besides, the clearing was pretty enough. Spring rains had left everything a bright, crisp green and wildflowers splashed color between the rapidly growing tall grass. A bird chirped from an oak behind the car.

Still not speaking to the Bitty, Jennifer walked away from the car, leaving the door open behind her. She circled the building, small bugs jumping up out of the grass with each step. A windmill stood toward one side of the property -squeaking when there was enough of a breeze to push the blades. Closer to the house a rainwater barrel had fallen on its side and filled partially with muck. Some tools rested on the ground or leaned against the building itself, but Jennifer wasn’t eager to dig through the webs glittering off the wooden handles just yet. A porch wrapped around half the little cabin with three sets of stairs leading to it. Jennifer climbed the one on the lee side. She stomped, neither the wooden boards nor the shack shook. Cheap rent and sturdy build, two points in the building’s favor. Technically three, most people considered large porches a plus, but the webs in the eaves were turning Jennifer’s stomach.

Jennifer unlocked the door. She gripped the door handle but paused when her ears caught small, birdlike steps on wood. The Bitty had followed her to the porch. When Jennifer glanced at the Bitty, he made a show of surveying the property with ambivalence. Shaking her head, Jennifer pushed the door open and peered inside.

“Oh boy.”

Everything was covered in a thick layer of tan dirt with that water spot pattern meaning it had gotten damp in the building at some point, and dust over that. A couple windows gave some daylight, but they were small, dirty, and had no blinds or curtains. Along the interior wall was the kitchen with a tiny oven and stove top, a small refrigerator, and hooks for storage. Opposite the kitchenette was a storage bench. Further in the house, just a few feet further, the loft overhung a built-in book case and desk.

Between the kitchenette and the desk were two doors. The first led to the bathroom which smelled of cave dirt, likely from the septic tank. Aside from the small, dried out toilet was the cabin’s only sink and a stainless-steel tub with showerhead. Brass fixtures hung from the ceiling, waiting for a shower curtain.

Jennifer closed the bathroom door and opened the second door, it led to a windowless storage room filled with shelving -a winter pantry.

Overall, the place could be worse. Nothing water, rags, and elbow grease couldn’t fix.

Water Jennifer didn’t have to spare, rags she’d not brought in abundance.

Jennifer found a light switch and flipped it. No light flickered on, confirming either the windmill wasn’t hooked up or that all the bulbs were dead. The sockets were filthy, Jennifer wouldn’t let her computer or phone chargers near any of them.

The Bitty, still in his fancy leather suit, stood in the doorway of the cabin. His scarlet gloves were clasped behind his back and he scuffed the toe of his blood red boots through the dust and dirt. Either from his size or simply because he wasn’t emoting, Jennifer was unable to read him.

“Well?” Jennifer asked, leaning against the dirt crusted stove. “This is home for the foreseeable future. I can still take you to the police station and they’ll get you back to your big, posh house in the suburbs.”

The Bitty tilted his skull proudly and narrowed his eye sockets, looking down at her from five feet below. “YOUR HUMOR IS WASTED, HUMAN! YOU WILL SEE TO MY NEEDS OR RISK YOUR OWN FREEDOM! NOW; THIS PIGSTY WILL TAKE MUCH EFFORT TO ADEQUATELY CLEAN, BEGIN IMMEDIATELY!”

Teeth on edge in annoyance, Jennifer rolled her eyes and made a show of tugging her forelock as she stepped around the little tyrant.

She spent the rest of the day making due with what she could. Despite the house’s size it took hours just to do a passing cleaning. Jennifer wrapped tee shirts as rags over her face and hair to attack the ceiling and porch rafters, then swept the loose dirt, dust, dead bugs, and spiderwebs from every surface. Just enough water was sacrificed to scrub grime from the stove and desk tops.

The trailer was unloaded, unhitched, rolled out of the way. Its contents were brought into the winter pantry. Next, Jennifer went through the clothes and things in her car. Most of it would stay put until the cabin could be properly cleaned, but the camping gear was already filthy so that came inside. There was a suspiciously nest-looking structure under the driver’s seat. Jennifer pulled everything out and discovered at long last what had happened to the metal fork and a water bottle both gone missing very early in her road trip.

Jennifer lingered over the find. The water bottle was -em- bone dry. She remembered the water waking her in the hotel. Grumbling, Jennifer refilled the water bottle from her gallon jugs and stuck it in her next load for the cabin.

More or less ‘moved-in’, Jennifer opened her kitchen box and pulled out some essentials. She wiped them down with a clean shirt, then set about using her small propane camping stove to make split pea soup. While it heated, she took out her phone and looked up how much Bitties should be expected to eat.

“Shit.”

“CURSING IS VULGAR! I WILL NOT HAVE THE ONE PRIVILEGED WITH MY CARE USING SUCH PEDESTRIAN LANGUAGE!” The Bitty called from where he’d claimed perch on the desk.

“So, which is it? Am I your privileged handmaiden or a future convict?”

“THAT IS ENTIRELY UP TO YOU.”

“Apparently not, since I’ve broken no law.”

The Bitty didn’t see it within his dignity to reply.

Jennifer focused on stirring the soup as it began to steam. According to her five-minute internet search -not academic quality but good enough for now- how much a single Bitty ate had nothing to do with their size and everything to do with intangibles like; their magic health, their emotional health, how much magic was in their food, if they loved or if they felt loved, their relationships with and proximity to other Bitties and humans. A happy, healthy, cared for Bitty who received regular amounts of monster food could eat Bitty sized portions, a few bites by adult human standards. The worse off a Bitty was the more food they required to sustain survivable magic levels. There were even reports of abandoned Bitties growing desperate enough to kill small animals.

Brat though the Bitty might be, he obviously wasn’t eating or drinking enough and with Jennifer being the only soul around for miles there wasn’t much love lost between them. Unless he’d brought his own, there probably wasn’t any monster chow with magic marshmallows or whatever between the soup pot and Billings… or wherever rich people lived and bought designer munchkins.

Muttering, Jennifer poured the hot soup into two bowls, dropping a spoon in each. She buttered two slices of bread -questioning the value of the ‘butter product’ the entire time- and carried everything over to the desk, making sure to place the water bottle next to the Bitty.

There was no chair and the bowls were too high for the Bitty to reach sitting, so they both stood and ate in silence. Jennifer kept her gaze on her food but watched out of the corner of her eye as the Bitty used a spoon to finish off more soup than there was Bitty, sopped up the remnants with the bread, and drained the water bottle which was also larger than he was.

He was hungry. But even though they’d skipped breakfast he’d only said anything specifically about food when he’d thought the food was spoiled… and he’d given Jennifer a piece.

What a weird little dude.

Dishes wiped clean, Jennifer spent the rest of the evening on the porch with the script for her new job using the sunlight to read by and jotting notes in a notebook to help remember.

Though she could access the internet with her phone, the property didn’t have internet suitable for her laptop, so Jennifer had to wait until she could afford the installation to do her usual work or look for something better. She was lucky her phone worked. At least this forced her to focus on the history of the ‘Historic Hobbler Hotel and Museum’ over the weekend, rather than getting distracted with the temptation to earn a few extra dollars.

She heard but didn’t pay any mind to the bird-like steps passing through the cabin and onto the porch as the Bitty moved around. He didn’t say much, just quietly stood on the porch while Jennifer worked. They remained like that, somewhat peacefully, as the sun began to set. The Bitty seemed to appreciate the view as the sky shaded from pale blue to darkening oranges and pinks. The crickets started to sing again.

Eventually, the quiet had to end. “HUMAN! THE SUN HAS CEASED TO GIVE ADEQUATE LIGHTING! CEASE YOUR VAIN EFFORTS IMMEDIATELY!” He barked.

Jennifer pulled the script away from her face and took a breath to snap at the Bitty, but any retorts were forgotten when relaxing her eyes allowed a headache to pinch from temple to temple. Her face felt tight, she’d been squinting too hard for too long. “Okay, okay.” Jennifer gave in, rubbing the tension away.

They returned to the cabin. The battery of her camping lantern wasn’t going to last much longer, so rather than try to kill it working on the script, Jennifer arranged her sleeping bag and pillow in the loft. She spread a thin throw blanket on one of the bookcase shelves and left some towels and clothes for the Bitty to make another nest or bed.

The Bitty had climbed up onto the desk and was watching her closely. “Do you need the light?” She asked, tapping the lantern.

“MONSTERS HAVE PERFECT NIGHT VISION! WE HAVE NO NEED OF ARTIFICIAL LIGHT SOURCES, AS HUMANS DO!”

“Okay then, I’ll leave you to it.” Jennifer refilled his water bottle before climbing up to the loft and scooting into her sleeping bag. Down the shelf, practically next to her ear, she could hear the Bitty arranging his nest.

As final dark settled over and through the cabin, Jennifer lay still. The wood floor of the loft was somewhat softened by a camping mat so Jennifer was comfortable enough, but still she remained awake. Jennifer reviewed what she could remember of the script for work, worried over her entirely absent budget and growing list of expenses, alternatively cursing the Bitty for making everything harder and wondering if maybe she should just turn him in already and enjoy three hots and a cot on Uncle Sam. She could still hear the Bitty’s little bird-like noises as he finished making up his nest and moved around the cabin, apparently not tired.

Eventually, inevitably, Jennifer’s thumb started rubbing against the smooth, sensitive skin of her left ring finger. Her mind started going places it was sure to drag her emotions along for the ride on and she’d had _enough_ of that. Too much. He wouldn’t get anything more from her.

Redirecting her attention, Jennifer grabbed her phone and texted her parents to let them know she’d moved in okay, then she started to surf the internet.

“HUMAN! DOUSE THAT LIGHT!”

“Fine!” She turned the phone off and tucked it deep in her sleeping bag: the little brat wasn’t going to crack her head open with it this time! He’d left a lump! It still hurt! Who did he think he was? A little five-inch terrorist! A runaway and an extortionist! On the lam from his legal owners and taking her hostage like this was some action or comedy movie. It would break her parents’ and grandmother’s heart if she was arrested for Bitty theft. Her brother would probably laugh. Would definitely laugh… Stupid little brother… she was proud of him…


	3. Blackbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little shift in perspective.

The Bitty watched with critical eye sockets until his human’s breathing finally evened out.

Filth crunched under his boots as he walked to the edge of the loft and began the effort of climbing down the ladder, crossing the floor, and then climbing up the shelves to his personal quarters. Optimally, he could have traversed the distance in one single effort, but he’d run out of monster candy some time ago and ‘optimum’ did not describe his current magic levels. The meal his human prepared helped, even with the revolting artificial spread on the… unusual tangy ‘sour dough’ bread. He could feel the food had been a boon to his magic, but he was still far from peak strength. That was no matter. Traversing from the loft directly to his private quarters would have merely been a lazy expense of magic. He was proud of his ability to maintain peak physical conditioning despite being a skeleton. It made his magic use more efficient -something certain sloth-like skeleton monsters never understood.

The Bitty pulled himself onto the shelf designated for his quarters. He patted his gloves together to remove some of the dirt and did his best to brush clean the rest of his uniform before undressing. The black and scarlet colors were dulled, but he currently lacked proper resources to clean them so that must wait. In the meantime, everything was neatly folded and set aside. The Bitty made use of his water bottle to wash up, then sat on his bedding to ruminate.

His human was going to require a lot of work.

She didn’t want to sleep proper hours, slept in her day clothes, forgot to set an alarm, skipped meals, didn’t drink enough water, didn’t properly lock doors, and would likely go blind in a month if left to her own devices.

Two months ago, when the he’d first slipped into his human’s former house (whilst human police searched for him elsewhere…) the Bitty had watched while his human’s former mate break their pair bond. Despite the wound of the severed bond, she remained proud and strong, attentive to her wounded mate even as she prepared for a new life. These qualities made her a perfect candidate as the Bitty’s new caretaker and he would have nothing less.

Unlike certain humans who would…

The Bitty shook his skull and focused.

He knew resources were tight. His human had enough to tend to the Bitty’s needs sufficiently until the situation improved, but barely enough for herself and thus risked compromising her efforts with one of those illnesses humans were prone to -why were they so delicate? Anyway, the Bitty had some money. Not a lot by his legal owners’ standards (they hadn’t even noticed it missing prior to his leaving) but enough to help his human now. However, his human’s pride wouldn’t allow her to simply accept the money. Proud humans had a need to provide for themselves and others. They might be offended at offered help, and since his human seemed sensitive about human laws, she would undoubtedly demand to know where the money came from.

He hummed and scratched at the back of his skull. The fact remained that his human was going to be a lot of work, but he was confident that she would be adequately groomed as his aid. The important things were all there, after all. For the time being, he would see to her care and if circumstances became dire he would supply more of the human money in some way his human couldn’t refuse. Simply hiding it to be found later wouldn’t work too often, but he was more than clever enough to figure something out.

Though vague, the plan was set. Satisfied, the Bitty curled up in his nest, pulling a cover over himself. He was exhausted but sure the sun would awaken him, as usual. His greatness certainly wouldn’t allow him lounge in bed like a worthless… slothful... He dreamed of a crooked smile leaking dust…

Light barely penetrated the filth on the windows but a hiss told the bitty his human was already up and cooking on their small gas camping stove.

The shame! Such laziness was unforgivable! He hurried into his uniform, barely slowing enough to avoid fumbling with hooks or tying his scarf. After pulling his boots on, the Bitty hurried from his quarters to monitor his human’s cooking. It was a dangerous task and he wouldn’t have her seriously injuring herself unsupervised. The single burner camping stove she used was poorly balanced and far too unstable to be left unsupervised -as she was in the habit of doing- and when monitored the open flame was an obvious threat. Humans burned at much lower temperatures than skeletons. Already he knew his human had singed several fingers and a more serious scorching was surely inevitable. How was it something so big was so infinitely delicate?

“Morning.” The human grunted when she saw him.

“HUMAN, I TRUST YOU SLEPT ADEQUATELY?”

She shrugged. “Eh, good enough.” The human didn’t sound too sure of that. “I’ll need a mattress, eventually. What about you? You can’t sleep in my laundry forever.”

“MY CURRENT ACCOMMODATIONS WILL SUFFICE FOR A WHILE LONGER.” He said charitably. His legal owners had purchased the best brand name items for his private quarters, but there were more important considerations than soft beds and private showers.

The human snorted and abandoned the pot of heating soup to slather more manufactured chemical spread on the strange tart bread. The Bitty fidgeted, waiting for the pot and stove to collapse, maybe spilling hot soup all over the human’s skin or set fire to the wooden floor. If it came to that he would use the human’s dish towel to douse the flames, but if the human was injured by hot soup they would require human healers… her phone. He would call for human medical assistance on the phone if the human was burned… However, the human soon returned to the pot. Risk of total disaster was reduced for the moment. Though, repeated finger burning wasn’t out of the question. There was a first aid kit in the car for that.

As with the previous night’s evening meal, the human poured the green soup into a bowl for the Bitty and served it with the bread and a full bottle of water, but she only prepared a slice of bread and questionable spread for herself. No water, no soup.

“HUMAN, I OBECT TO BEING STARED AT WHILE EATING! WHERE IS YOUR MEAL?”

The human raised her slice of bread. “I’m good.” The Bitty took a breath to unleash a lashing retort but the human caught him off guard. “What’s your name, anyway?”

The Bitty smirked. He’d been watching his human so long while hiding that he’d nearly forgotten she only met him the day before. She didn’t know the name his legal owners used. It was an opportunity. “I HAVE NO NAME.”

“Bologna.” He didn’t know what that bologna might be. She said it like an expletive, but the intent was not there. Strange human. “You belong to my neighbors, you had to have a name on the papers and I remember them calling you something when they showed you off.”

“I HAVE NO NAME.” The Bitty insisted. “WHAT THOSE SPOILED CHILDREN REFERRED TO MY EXCELLENT SELF AS WAS PATHETIC AND IS IRRELEVANT, A WORTHLESS, FORGOTTEN TITLE ASSIGNED BY MERE WORMS.” He waved the idea off, ready for an end to this conversation.

“I have to call you something eventually. Doesn’t matter much here, I guess. Still, feels weird calling my roommate ‘hey you’ regardless of extortion.”

“YOU MAY REFER TO ME AS YOU PLEASE, HUMAN.”

She pointed at him, “And that. I don’t like being called ‘human’. Have I been referring to you as ‘Bitty’?”

He hadn’t thought of that. He didn’t have a name ready. Naturally he knew hers. Easily. He just didn’t care to use it… though he certainly remembered it. And if he did not remember, human females of broken pairs changed their names, did they not? It would be perfectly normal to not remember -which wasn’t him because he remembered! And Bitties were supposed to assign titles to their humans! He would refer to his human only by her title… when he saw fit to designate one.

The human shrugged. “Okay. So, you don’t want your old name? Feh, can’t remember it anyway.” She thought for a moment, nibbling her bread. “How about ‘Blackbird’?”

“CALL ME AS YOU WISH, HUMAN! IT MATTERS NOT TO ME!” Blackbird replied.

“Blackbird it is, then.” The human saluted him with her bread before eating it.

Blackbird was certainly not pleased by these antics. He focused on his food to ensure he properly received the benefits therein. He certainly wasn’t trying to think of an appropriate reciprocal appellation for his human.

~*~*~

Jennifer wondered why the little Bitty’s skull had gone blueish-purple like that. She had a lot more research to do on these guys.

After finishing and cleaning up breakfast, Jennifer took her work out onto the porch, which was tolerable now that the spiders were evicted. She divided her time between memory work on the tour script and reading the book her new boss had given her so she could answer questions outside the museum’s set tour.

Blackbird pattered around the cabin, then joined Jennifer on the porch to survey the clearing in silence. Eventually he had enough of playing Lord of the Manor and approached the front stairs. The sound he made when jumping down to each step was little different than what Jennifer would expect from one of his namesakes doing the same thing. Jennifer hid her smirk behind her script, wondering what his reaction would be if she told him.

The quiet resumed. Sometimes Jennifer would look up from her studying and watch the clearing for a minute. Soon, her eyes would catch a spot where the grass was moving differently than the rest. Seeing where he was, she’d return to her work. After a few hours she looked up for the patch of movement and didn’t find it. Jennifer frowned, carefully scanning the small clearing and not seeing anything that couldn’t be explained away by wind or bugs. She snorted softly and set aside her work so she could stand. Being considerably more than four inches tall, Jennifer made a noise unlike any bird as she hopped off the porch and hit the ground.

Not that she was looking for the brat. It was just time for a break and… they were the only two out there. Who the hell was she trying to kid?

Jennifer grumbled at herself as she walked, keeping an eye out for little patches of movement. Just how easy would it be to really lose somebody that small?

Eh, pretty easy. Her old neighbors would probably never find him.

Around the side of the house, she found Blackbird looking at the tools abandoned there. “Whatcha find?”

“THESE BLADES HAVE BEEN EXCEPTIONALLY POORLY TREATED.” Blackbird reported. “BUT THEY MAY YET BE SALVAGEABLE.”

“Blades?” Jennifer stepped closer. The wooden handles she’d assumed were regular tools were all just as the Bitty had said: blades. Long and a short-handled scythes, a hatchet, a two person saw, and a regular hand saw. All the blades were rusted over, but the metal of the two person saw had split and given way. Curious, Jennifer put a finger to the end of the long-handled scythe and pulled it away from the cabin wall. The blade still looked wicked.

Jennifer look from the blade to the clearing. “This must be what was used to keep the property clear… until they didn’t.” She replaced the handle against the wall. “There’s nothing I can do about it right now. If they survive a couple more weeks… maybe.” Her finger tapped the wood a few more times as she considered.

Blackbird watched silently as Jennifer walked away. She climbed the porch and went back inside to dig through some boxes. Rag and work gloved excavated, she returned to where Blackbird continued to wait by the blades. With the gloves protecting her from the evils of spiderwebs and general ickyness, Jennifer wiped the large scythe clean, careful of the sharpened steel, and carried it inside to rest in the winter pantry. She did the same with the short scythe, hatchet, and hand saw. No point leaving them in the spring rain to rust further if they could be saved now. She’d dispose of the two person saw some other time.

Jennifer noted Blackbird was curiously approaching the crawlspace beneath the house before she returned to her studies.

At lunchtime, Jennifer heated one of the last two cans from her original rations -chili. Blackbird climbed the shelves so he could reach the desk top and resume his usual position watching her cook for reasons that escaped Jennifer’s understanding. He eyed her with suspicion when she opened the bread and pulled out two slices of sour dough. There wasn’t any more ‘butter spread’ -a blessing, truly- so she set two slices out dry. Blackbird’s eye sockets narrowed when he again saw her retrieving only one bowl.

“HUMAN! YOU WILL EAT WITH ME.” He barked.

“Yes, yes. I’ll be eating with you.” Jennifer agreed placidly.

“AND YOU WILL EAT SUBSTANTIAL FOOD, NOT MERELY THE TART SOUR DOUGH BREAD!”

“Blackbird, I really don’t need that much. I’m not even doing anything today, just reading.”

“RIDICULOUS! HUMANS REQUIRE MORE THAN MERE BREAD TO STUDY! YOUR WEAK, SQUISHY BRAINS REQUIRE NOURISHMENT. YOU WILL EAT A PROPER MEAL!”

“Alright! Alright!” Jennifer conceded. She retrieved and cleaned a plate, then made a sandwich out of some of the chili and two slices of bread. The rest of the chili -once hot- was poured into a bowl and served with another slice of bread while Jennifer sat down with the sandwich. “I’m really not hungry for more than this.” She insisted.

Blackbird watched her refill his water bottle, then pour a glass for herself. “SEEING AS HOW YOU FINALLY HAVE SENSE ENOUGH TO DRINK SOMETHING, HUMAN, I SHALL CONCEDE THE POINT, BUT ONLY FOR THE MOMENT.” Blackbird said, his tone begrudging. Jennifer lifted her brows at him, more convinced than ever that he was a weird little dude.

~*~*~

Again, after eating Jennifer returned to the porch, diligent in her studies if only because there was nothing else to do.

The afternoon grew warm as Jennifer continued to wrestle with dates and rooms. 1862, 1901, room 31, 1898, room 24, 1877, they were all just numbers dancing around and refusing to connect with their assigned facts.

An uppity cricket jumped onto the script and refused to leave until Jennifer nudged him away with her pen. He refused to release her attention, though, and Jennifer found herself idling and gazing out toward the woods for several minutes before she forced her attention back to the script. Room 32 where Sydney Erington, first governor of Montana, took a room but was unable to stay in the year… Wait, was that Montana State or Montana Territory?

A bird landed on a corner of the porch and chirped brightly before flying off. Again, Jennifer watched after the bird longer than she should have and had to force her attention to the task at hand. She wasn’t usually so easily distracted. Typically she was a good student but today her mind just refused to stay on task. Maybe it was time to switch from the script to the book again.

Jennifer leaned a little more heavily on the nearest pillar, opened to the third chapter and started to read about how the yet-to-be-named town’s First Protestant Church had burned. This convinced the town’s leaders that they needed better planning for fire emergencies to prevent the entire town from going up. Bureaucracy ensued and nothing was accomplished before the Second Protestant Church was built -and burned to the ground before the next Sunday Meeting….

~*~*~

Jennifer woke up from her impromptu nap to find a Bitty sleeping on her lap. Why Blackbird crawled on her thigh, Jennifer hadn’t the foggiest. What she was going to do about it she had less idea about.

After several minutes of blurry befuddlement, Jennifer decided to go with her default answer concerning the bratty extortionist; just keep going. She was careful not to jostle the little guy when she reached for her script and was surprised to see her book resting on top of it. One corner of the spine was covered in moist dirt so it had clearly fallen in the dirt, but there it was. Jennifer blinked down at the Bitty again.

Weird little dude.

She’d been reading for nearly an hour when she felt a twitch on her leg. Blackbird woke and his skull shaded blue-purple again, but he maintained his dignity as he climbed down from Jennifer’s leg with as much decorum as possible before marching off.


	4. Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring is in the air! Jennifer knew that, she just kind of forgot. Forgetting can be stressful.

Rain tapping on the roof and against the windows woke Jennifer. It was a soft, pleasant sound and she took a moment to revel in it until remembering; she had no electricity.

“Oh no.” Jennifer started kicking and scrambling out of her sleeping bag so she could jump down from the loft and run to the front door. Outside, there was no sign of a cloud break toward the horizon. Just enough light filtering through the clouds to show the sun was up, somewhere. “No…” She climbed back up to the loft and dug through the sleeping bag for her phone. The weather forecast; rain and possible thunderstorms all weekend. To add insult to injury her phone chirped and reminded her to plug it in.

Cloud cover and no electricity meant no light to read by. Just the day before she’d been thinking about what spring rains might do to those abandoned tools and she hadn’t thought to wonder what it might do to her light. She tried to remember what businesses she’d seen in town. Could she drive to any of those and spend the day reading without making a purchase? There had to be a library, hadn’t there?

The phone chirped again. Once it started chirping she had maybe five minutes of internet or GPS time, it took longer than that to get to town. This was a really bad time to realize she needed a phone charger for the car.

She’d have to go into town and hope she found a place before she ran out of gas. It should work. Nearly half a tank of gas should get her to and from town to study for two days and then get to work. Hopefully.

Her temples were starting to throb again.

“HUMAN!” Blackbird interrupted Jennifer’s shaky mental calculations of mileage. It was so dim in the cabin she could barely see anything but his eye lights over the desk. His black leathers didn’t help. “YOU WASTE TIME! BEGIN PREPARING THE MORNING MEAL, IMMEDIATELY!”

Of course, the little brat was hungry. “Sure thing, boss.” Jennifer muttered.

The blue lights narrowed. “I AM NOT A ‘BOSS’, HUMAN! YOU WILL REFER TO ME BY MY NAME!”

Jennifer took a breath and forcefully reminded herself that this little problem wasn’t his fault, there wasn’t a good reason to snap at him over this… though he’d given her plenty of reason to be snappish there was no dignity in giving in at this point. “Right. I’m sorry: Blackbird. Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“YOUR APOLOGY IS ACCEPTED.” Blackbird pronounced magnanimously.

A couple slaps were needed to get the camping lantern working well enough to start the propane camper stove safely. The light from the lantern continued to dim until Jennifer was pouring the soup into bowls by the gloom penetrating the windows and door rather than the lantern. Jennifer didn’t even think as she prepared full meals for both herself and the Bitty, then just let herself work on autopilot while she ate and washed dishes.

If she had to go into town for light then there was no avoiding it. If she could find the library maybe there would be an outlet for her phone. Jennifer had barely paid attention the last time she drove through town and couldn’t remember much more than the gas station. Would it be hard to find a library? Maybe someone at the gas station would let her plug her phone in long enough to get directions to the library? The town had to have a library… right?

Jennifer grabbed her keys and tried to remember where she’d left the book and script in the dark cabin.

“HUMAN, WHY ARE YOU WASTING TIME AGAIN?” Blackbird demanded. “SIT AND RETURN TO YOUR WORK STUDIES!”

Again, Jennifer forcibly reminded herself to be civil with the little Bitty as she looked for him. Following his voice, she spotted him on the floor by the open door. He was dragging her book with the script still tucked in as a bookmark. Headache spiking, Jennifer stepped closer and picked up the book. “I have to go into town and find a place to study.” She told him.

“NONSENSE. YOU WERE PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF STUDYING HERE THE LAST TWO DAYS.”

“And you were the one telling me not to try reading in the dark. It’s dark.” Jennifer said, pointing out the obvious.

“I CAN SEE THAT, HUMAN. BUT I HAVE ALREADY TOLD YOU; MONSTERS DO NOT REQUIRE MUCH LIGHT TO SEE. AS YOU NEED THIS FOR YOUR WORK, I -BLACKBIRD- SHALL ACT AS YOUR EYES UNTIL ADEQUATE LIGHTING IS AVAILABLE.”

Jennifer stared at the little monster’s dim form. “You’d read to me?” She asked. “I need to finish that whole book and memorize the script. That’s a lot of work.”

“PERHAPS FOR A BRAIN CONSTRUCTED OF JELLY!” He scoffed. Jennifer couldn’t make out the gesture he made but it was clearly that of someone who believed themselves capable of hanging the stars. “YOU’RE RESPONSIBLE FOR MY NECESSITIES. IT WOULD BE A LOW THING NOT TO LIKEWISE GRANT SUCH SIMPLISTIC AID WHEN YOU ARE IN DIRE NEED. COME! YOU CONTINUE TO WASTE TIME!” Blackbird marched onto the porch, stopping by her usual study spot and waiting impatiently.

Jennifer followed Blackbird, eyeing him. Fully outside, it was easier to see him despite his clothes’ dark coloring. “Okay then.” She resumed her spot, turned so her back was resting against the pillar with her feet pointed toward the cabin, out of the rain. She opened the book and tried to decide how they were going to do this. The book was a new paperback, the spine still tight, so Blackbird couldn’t hold it open himself.

Just as with his nap the day before, Blackbird didn’t bother asking. He merely climbed into her lap and settled in front of the book.

“CHAPTER SEVEN.” He began. His tone dropped from commanding arrogance to something softer, warmer, maybe a half octave deeper before continuing. “Following Captain Eric Hobbler’s death, the town council voted unanimously, May 4th of 1871, to name the town in memorial. Signage was commissioned and unveiled at a fair held on June 15th which is considered Hobbler’s official Founder’s Day.” Blackbird paused. “FOUNDER’S DAY ON CHAPTER SEVEN?”

“Yep.” Jennifer agreed. The town had already existed for a couple decades at that point and some interesting stuff led to its inception. Took them long enough to decide to name the place.

“UTTERLY ABSURD.” Blackbird shook his skull before continuing. “Widow Hobbler was in attendance and gave a short, unrecorded speech of gratitude for the honor paid her late husband.”

“During that summer the Third Protestant Church was completed and letters sent East requesting a new pastor. Reverend Gerald Farthing responded and traveled by train to his new parish. Two days prior to the minister’s arrival in Hobbler, lighting struck a rotting tree near the new structure…”

They passed the day pleasantly enough like that. Later, Jennifer used the remaining power in her laptop to light her way when cooking and Blackbird alternately read to her from the book or drilled her on the tour script. Because of the gloomy light all day, sunset didn’t change much but the wind started blowing, keeping Jennifer and Blackbird in the cabin to stay dry after dinner. Blackbird continued to work with Jennifer until the rain picked up until it became too loud to talk -even in Blackbird’s usual tone- and they agreed to just go to bed.

Late in the night a flash of lightning startled Jennifer awake, confusing her until the thunder rolled through. Grumbling, she turned over on her camping mat so her back was to the loft window, then went through the obligatory shifting and wiggling to try and find a comfortable position despite the thin layer of foam between her and the wood floor. Between the hard sleep surface, the rain, and the continuing thunder; Jennifer was still awake when a brief lull in the weather brought small, birdlike noises to her attention.

Sleepy, Jennifer didn’t open her eyes right away, just listened as the sound came closer, then fell silent as he stepped onto her camping mat. She’d nearly drifted off before hearing the scratchy squeak of her sleeping bag being moved. For a moment Jennifer suspected he was trying to get at her cell phone to crack her over the head again, but she’d left it on the bench. Then she felt tiny tugs on her shirt and cracked an eye open. A flash of lightning showed Blackbird earnestly climbing her sleeve. In the following darkness, she felt him scale her shoulder, pushing the sleeping bag out of his way until his weight, as birdlike as his footsteps, settled on the point where her shoulder became her back. A moment later the thunder followed the lightning and Jennifer was reasonably sure she felt the Bitty shudder.

The storm proved short-lived. Lightning and thunder stretched further apart until the thunder quieted to a distant idea and both fell asleep.

~*~*~

Blackbird’s weight was so slight, Jennifer didn’t realize it was gone until after she’d been awake several minutes.

The rain was lighter now, only a soft patting on the roof and infrequently reaching the loft window, but the cloud cover remained heavy and dark. Jennifer changed into a clean tee and jeans, then climbed down from the loft. It was still too dark to see easily, but she did pick out Blackbird’s eye lights. She thought she saw some light coming off his cheekbones, though she couldn’t tell if that was just a reflection from his eyes or not. “Morning.” Jennifer greeted him. The lights flinched.

“YES HUMAN, GOOD MORNING.” Blackbird replied. His voice was firm and steady as ever, almost enough for Jennifer to believe the extra light mere reflection.

Jennifer opened the front door. As with the previous day, it let in some dim light but not much. The temperature was cooler now and the air smelled amazing. She set to work making one of the last three cans of soup for breakfast by the light of her laptop and the open door. “Hey, Blackbird?”

“YES HUMAN. WHAT IS IT?” This time he sounded just a trace nervous. Jennifer took note of it.

“Would you mind reading to me again today?”

“OF COURSE! I SHALL CERTAINLY GRANT SUCH A REQUEST! THERE IS NOTHING AT ALL STRANGE ABOUT ANYTHING!” Nope. Definitely not a simple reflection.

Weird little dude…

…but kind of cute.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve barely begun posting this and Real Life demands sacrifices. Blackbird will be on temporary hiatus for the rest of the year. The rest of the story is outlined and several chapters are written, but my computer access will be sketchy until 2020. Weekend postings will resume January 4th, and new chapters will be posted every weekend I have a computer.
> 
> To any readers who pass this way;  
Happy Halloween!  
Be safe and don’t talk to strange skeletons.  
HAPPY THANKSGIVING, USA!!!  
I am grateful for finding both Undertale and AO3 this year! Wish me luck on my turkey and all the best to those of you outside the US.  
MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!!!!  
This year’s Yuletide promises to be fully haunted by the spirits of Christmas Future and Christmas Past. I wish you all starlight, hope, and joy this Christmas. God bless.  
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!  
2020 anticipates a lot of personal change and growth. Such excitement ahead. So have a cup of kindness, my dears, for auld Lang Syne.  
<3


	5. First Day on the Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training montage. Alexa, play 'We Didn't Start the Fire".

“HUMAN! AWAKEN IMMEDIATELY OR I SHALL STRIKE YOU WITH THE COOKING SPOON!”

Jennifer opened her eyes and glared at the Bitty. Blackbird posed proudly at the top of the ladder with the described spoon held at his side as easily as if it weren’t three times his height. “Why are you so violent when waking people?”

Blackbird frowned disapprovingly at the accusation. “I AM NOT VIOLENT. I FIRST PROVIDED A WARNING. FURTHER, IT IS AN EFFECTIVE TACTIC ON THE LAZY. NOW, GET UP! YOU CANNOT BE LATE FOR YOUR FIRST DAY OF WORK!” Confident of a job well done, Blackbird tossed to spoon to the floor below and began descending.

Jennifer muttered to herself as she started the process of kicking free of her sleeping bag and working out the kinks from sleeping on wood. She stopped in the bathroom for a washcloth ‘birdbath’ and dressed for work, then risked turning her phone on to check the time. Blackbird had given her plenty of time to get ready without being absurd about it. Did Bitties have precise internal clocks or something? How was it not screwed up by changing time zones? Jennifer shrugged these questions off as she killed the phone again before its low power chirping drove her nuts.

Breakfast was a simple affair; it was the only food left. Jennifer opened the last can -fruit cocktail- and poured herself and Blackbird some of the warm, shelf-stable milk. Blackbird made an unhappy noise when he saw Jennifer had given him the entire can but before he could complain she asked, “Are you planning to stay here or come into town? I don’t know if my boss will approve you coming to work with me.”

“I WILL BE RETURNING TO THE TOWN OF HOBBLER.” Blackbird declared. “I CARE NOT FOR YOUR EMPLOYER’S APPROVAL AS I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF BUSYING MYSELF WITHOUT FOLLOWING YOU ALL DAY.”

“Alrighty then.” Jennifer agreed, the distraction a success. She rinsed and wiped her glass while Blackbird finished eating. They left as soon as his dishes were clean.

The hotel museum was located near the edge of Hobbler, close to the motel Jennifer -and Blackbird- had stayed. She hadn’t seen much of the town when stopping in for her interview nor noticed much when anxiously searching for a gas station, so now she took a little more time to appreciate the place on her way to work. It was a small, clean little town lacking the broken-down buildings typical of places that had boomed in decades long past. There were several small stores with brightly painted signs and trees with small flowers and grasses freshly planted amid their roots growing from planters built into the sidewalk. A few people were bicycling in the cool spring weather and a dog walker waved. An older gentleman with orthodox payot dangling from under a bowler hat afforded Jennifer a nod as she drove past.

They were stopped at one of Hobbler’s five -count them: five- stop lights when Jennifer noticed a building that was older and in poor repair. “Oh gosh. Blackbird, can you see that?” She asked, pointing.

Blackbird had been sitting on the now empty passenger seat, but he hopped onto the door’s armrest so he could see what she was pointing to. A sign read; “13th Protestant Church of Hobbler.”

“MWEH-HEH-HEH-HEH!” Blackbird cackled and Jennifer laughed right along. In the history book, they’d just finished reading about the construction of the Tenth Protestant Church in 1940. The current reincarnation was the only building in town that looked like it had been abandoned.

Soon, they pulled into the parking lot between the museum and City Hall. City Hall was a respectable stone building of one story with a basement. The Historic Hobbler Hotel and Museum was a wood structure of nearly the same size around, but three full stories high. The parking lot between was exceptionally large, but if memory served the town’s sheriff’s office and post office used to stand here before they modernized and moved down the street -still in one building.

Jennifer briefly considered rolling the windows down, but she suspected Blackbird wanted out, a suspicion he proved correct by hopping out almost as soon as she opened her door. “Alright, I’m heading in. Be safe.” She didn’t know why she said that.

Blackbird snapped, “I AM PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF MANAGING MY OWN SAFETY, HUMAN! IT IS YOU WHO IS ENTIRELY TOO DELICATE AND SHOULD TAKE MIND!” With that he turned and marched off, his chosen direction taking him under the car.

Jennifer shrugged and hooked her backpack over her shoulder before heading inside.

When her new boss saw Jennifer walk in, he lifted a bushy grey eyebrow as if surprised she’d stuck with the job that long. Jacob Patterns was a large, though trim man past middle age and had obviously gotten used to watching the summer guides come infrequently and leave faster than the summers. “Alright Jennifer, let’s get to work.” He announced by way of greeting. “Take this. Try it on.” He tossed her a plum colored polo shirt with the museum’s name and the hotel façade embroidered on the front.

Once Jennifer was properly attired, Jacob started explaining. “We usually switch off with one of us at the register and the other in costume for tours. Regular tours start next Monday. You’ll need to prove to me by Friday that you can handle both parts of the job. If you can’t handle one or the other you’ll be docked down to minimum wage until you catch up. Understood?” Jennifer nodded. “We’ll set a new schedule after figuring out what you’re capable of. Now, let’s get started on the cash register. Supposed to look authentic and work modern, which means it’s complicated as all hell.”

The cash register was every bit as complicated as Jacob was straightforward. After they’d both fought with the machine for a couple hours he declared it time for a break and demonstrated the tour. He was a confident speaker, obviously experienced with his subject and he clearly loved the hotel. Jacob had something to say about every room, even if it wasn’t technically part of the tour. Jennifer also noticed that beneath an identical polo shirt to the one she now wore, Jacob’s pants hung in a way that indicated suspenders instead of a belt and his boots were period accurate, but too scuffed and worn to be mere costume pieces. He led her through all three floors, cautioning her on the stairs, before they returned to the main lobby. “…And that’s the spiel.” Jacob finished. “We stop here so the guests can take a minute to admire the lobby and ask questions before inviting everyone to visit the gift shop.”

“Makes sense.” Jennifer said, looking up at the antique crystal chandelier and grand staircase. It certainly was the nicest part of the hotel.

“Want to take a crack at it?” Jacob offered.

Jennifer blinked at him. “Crack at what?”

His smile was tired. “The tour. Think you’re up to a rehearsal?”

Jessica considered the lobby in a new light. “I haven’t gotten it memorized yet.” She admitted. Jacob started to give a shrug, that was typical. He was already turning back to the gift shop when Jennifer straightened her shoulders to meet the challenge. “But heck, why not?”

Jacob stopped, mid-step. “You… want to?”

“Sure. It’s practice though, right? I’m not ready for the grade.”

It was Jacob’s turn to blink in surprise before he grinned and changed direction, clapping a friendly hand on Jennifer’s shoulder as they walked. “You’re okay.” He judged.

Jennifer gave it her best shot, reciting from the script and imitating gesture and stops that she picked up from Jacob’s demonstration. When she really floundered, Jacob would patiently give her time to recall it herself before providing a prompt that usually set her back on track. Finally they returned to the lobby, Jennifer invited her mostly invisible audience to ask questions or peruse the gift shop before concluding their visit.

“Not bad.” Jacob acknowledged. “Most kids hardly look at the script before their first day, much less learn the thing and read the book.

Jennifer shrugged modestly. “It was an interesting book.” She was amused at being called a ‘kid’ again, but at the same time it stung to be reminded that this was a summer job designed for traditional college interns. She’d just barely started this job and it was already time to start hunting for work to replace this one in Autumn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
I hope you're as excited for 2020 as I am!  
Stowaway Bitty will update every weekend I have a laptop and internet.


	6. Isaac Flounces In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac...

After the tour, they returned to the gift shop and continued the effort of mastering the cash register. Jennifer was trying not to clock watch or worry what to do about the lunch break when a buzzer announced the front door was open and a cheerful voice called out, “YOO-_HOO! _The life of the party is here! With food!”

“Lunch is here.” Jacob grunted, “And… the rest.”

A man roughly Jacob’s age pranced into the lobby. He had a similar face to Jacob’s, same height, hair fading the same way, but that’s where the similarities ended. His clothes were a mockery of historical accuracy with pastel orange riding pants and emerald green poet shirt with frills aplenty. He wheeled a clothes rack behind him bearing several outfits covered in dry cleaning bags swinging from the top bar as well as a cooler that had been jerry-rigged to hang on the bar’s remaining space. The man leaned over dramatically as if he couldn’t already see into the gift shop just fine. He pressed a hand to his mouth. “Oh! What a pretty thing! Sweetie, we are going to have so much fun!”

“Don’t trust him for a minute.” Jacob grumbled under his breath. Louder, he added, “Jennifer, this is my brother; Isaac. He brings lunch when we’re busy and manages all historic clothing and clothing reproductions for the museum.”

Isaac smiled broadly, twinkled his fingers, and fluttered his lashes at Jennifer. Even without Jacob’s warning, Isaac was too over-the-top to be believed. The man led his trolley into the gift shop. “Honey, if you aren’t the loveliest employee we’ve had here; I’m a canary!” He seized Jennifer’s chin and tilted her head up to get a look at her face in the best lighting possible. Jacob started to growl. “Such beautiful, warm colors! You might be able to wear the maroon, maybe the plum!” Releasing Jennifer’s face, he put his hands on her shoulders and spun her around. His hands lingered a little too long and a little too warmly, nothing like the clap on the shoulder Jacob had given her. “Perhaps a little slender for the plum, but I’m sure the maroon will fit… the crimson absolutely demands a taller lady, I’m afraid.”

“Isaac…” Jacob hissed.

Isaac whipped a tape measure out of his pocket. “Hold your arms up, love, so I can get an accurate set of measurements.” He spun her around again and wrapped the tape measure around her chest. Before he could pull the tape snug Jennifer was already cocking her hand back for a proper slap.

Jacob stalled her, barking, “_That’s it!_” The museum curator seized his brother by the arm and almost bodily hauled the lighter built man from the gift shop, planting a firm -but historically accurate- boot to the seat of his brother’s pants to ensure the man left Jennifer alone. He seized the door handle and turned to Jennifer. He took a breath that was obviously meant to be calming or some such before telling her, “I’m really sorry about him. There’s food and drinks in the cooler. Help yourself and then try some of the dresses on. Pick the two that fit best and Isaac will start fitting them after I _beat some sense into him._” Jacob snarled and stormed out of the giftshop, slamming the door behind him. Jennifer waited a minute and soon she heard the yelling start. “_**ARE YOU **TRYING** TO GET ARRESTED FOR SEXUAL HARASSMENT?!**_”

His voice dropped to a level unintelligible through the solid oak door.

Jennifer slowly allowed her hand to drop. She considered. Jennifer wasn’t the sort of person to take that kind of treatment, but she couldn’t just up and leave if that was going to be a regular thing.

A yip came through the muffled yelling on the other side of the door. Jennifer sighed and ran a hand over her hair. At least it sounded like Jacob was taking this seriously. One incident wasn’t something to brush off, but neither was it enough to send her packing. Nothing had happened, not really, but just brushing close to a real incident

A shudder passed through her. … _I need this job… it’s just a single season…_ She could see the seeds of the same logic that trapped women in more serious situations. Jennifer physically rubbed away the cold feeling the thought left her with.

It was one incident. If it repeated or a pattern of harassment developed… she’d come up with a new plan. No matter how desperate she might be, she wouldn’t take that kind of treatment.

Turning her attention, Jennifer took the cooler off the trolley and looked through it. There was an abundance of sandwiches and several bottles of fruit juice and water.

“Okay. Do you want beef or veggie?” Jennifer asked out loud.

The gift shop remained silent save for the faint echoes of Jacob’s yelling. Jennifer smirked at that, then rolled her eyes at the silence and walked over to the display of souvenir sweatshirts. She parted the shirts down the middle so she could see Blackbird standing in the corner, trying to pretend he hadn’t been hiding there. “Do you want roast beef or vegetable sandwiches?” She repeated.

“YOU KNEW I WAS HERE?” Blackbird demanded irritably.

Jennifer considered telling him she’d been hearing his familiar movements all morning but decided she didn’t want to clue him in and have him learn to be quieter. “It’s a small town. I figured there wasn’t much else you would find interesting.” She fibbed. “Do you want a lift to the counter?”

Blackbird’s face and skull colored that familiar purple-blue. “ARE YOU OFFERING TO CARRY ME?”

“Unless you want to eat on the floor.” Jennifer said.

“VERY WELL. I ACCEPT YOUR OFFER OF TRANSPORTATION TO THE COUNTER.” Jennifer bent down and held out her hand. Blackbird marched over, perhaps at a faster pace than usual, and climbed into the palm of her hand. Jennifer cupped her fingers just enough to ensure he was secure before standing and carrying him to the check-out counter. She’d noticed how light he was when he’d napped and sat on her leg or sought… whatever that was in the storm, but in her hand she noticed again how slight his weight was. Would a bird this size weigh more?

They shared the provided food at the counter. Both ate a large roast beef sandwich and split one of the vegetable sandwiches, then worked their way through a substantial amount of juice and water. Jennifer figured she really didn’t care if Isaac thought she ate like a pig.

Once they’d eaten their fill, Jennifer insisted Blackbird remain in a tent she created between the cooler and the cash register with a souvenir tee shirt while she tried the dresses on as ordered. It took some doing to get everything on correctly, but Jennifer thought she’d done an adequate job. Despite his attempted lechery, Isaac’s observations were correct. The rich purple –‘plum’ gown was a little loose on her but Jennifer thought it might be flattering when properly fitted. The maroon was a simple gingham which might need to be let out a touch at the waist and brought in near the bust but was rather comfortable otherwise.

On a whim, Jennifer pinned her hair up with a pen before removing Blackbird’s tent-shirt tent. He was silent, looking her over with hands folded behind his back in a militant fashion while Jennifer folded the shirt and set it aside. “I have to check in with my boss now. He’s probably hungry, too.” Jennifer told him. “Do you want another lift, or do you want to stick around?”

Blackbird’s expression remained inscrutable. “I CAN DESCEND WITHOUT AID. ATTEND WELL TO YOUR WORK DUTIES!” He hopped from the counter, taking a moment to stick the landing before straightening and marching under the counter’s shelving. Jennifer watched him go, then started to turn away before she paused as something about her backpack caught her eye.

She’d stuffed it under the counter so it would be out of the way. Now, a cord stuck out of her backpack leading to an electrical socket. Jennifer knew she hadn’t plugged her phone in, but that was definitely her phone charger. The sight made her feel probably better than it should have, better than she should have needed. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as Jennifer went to open the door between the gift shop and the museum.

Jacob was standing with his back to the door, a physical barrier between his brother and his employee. He turned when the door opened and looked her over briefly before nodding in approval. “That should work.”

Isaac pulled his brother aside so he could get a look. “Darling, you look ravish-” Jacob’s elbow made a rapid and firm correction to Isaac’s behavior and ribs. “_oof!_ I mean; Jennifer, you look wonderful. That gown suits you and I will be happy to tailor it without violating your sense of comfort and with my dear brother here to ensure as such.” Jacob growled. “And I do apologize for my earlier indiscretion. It won’t happen again.”

Jennifer raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Indiscretion’ was certainly a word.

“It won’t happen again.” Jacob repeated. “And _I_ apologize for this idiot.”

Isaac mostly behaved himself afterwards. He made a few comments that were too flirty, but managed to control himself under the constant supervision of his growling brother.

After his brother left, Jacob spent the rest of the afternoon running Jennifer through the rest of her responsibilities; routine cleaning, inspection and inventory of certain artifacts, how to contact him in the main archives under City Hall, and how to open up or lock up the museum as needed. When locking up himself at the end of their day, Jacob reminded Jennifer to give the main doors an extra yank to ensure they were secured properly. “That’s the long and short of it.” He said. “We have some special tours. Those ghost hunters are popular right now, but I’ll take care of those until you’ve mastered the basics.” Jennifer nodded. Jacob’s tone dropped. “I can only apologize for my brother’s idiocy.” He repeated. “If you choose to report today’s incident, I won’t object.”

Jennifer looked the man over. He was serious, Jennifer half suspected he’d give her the address and number of his supervisors should she ask, but he also had these big green-grey eyes that just looked so _sad_. She had no intention of caving to those hound dog eyes, but she figured she’d be straight with him. “Once I can deal with. If it happens again, I don’t think I can let it go so easily.” She warned.

He nodded. “That’s fair.”

A moment of silence stretched between them before Jennifer nodded. “Okay, enough of about that. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you in the morning.” Jacob agreed. As they turned and headed for their respective cars Jacob stopped and held up a hand. “One last thing.”

Hooking a thumb under the strap of her bag, Jennifer waited. “Yes?”

He grinned slyly, eyes twinkling. “Your Bitty can keep comin’ in if he wants, just avoid anachronisms during the tour.” With a wink, he unlocked his car and climbed in.

“He’s not my-” Jennifer started to correct, then shrugged. For the first time since ‘the incident’ she felt the tension easing. No need to disturb that with details. “Whatever.” She unlocked her own car and opened the door, then stepped back. Sure enough, Blackbird marched proudly out from under the car and hopped up into the vehicle.

As they settled into their seats Jennifer spoke up. “Hey, Blackbird?” She shut the door.

“YES, MADAM?”

Jennifer’s brain shorted out. What did he just call her? “What did you just call me?”

The Bitty crossed his arms and stared straight ahead as if there was a windshield at his level he could look through. “MADAM. AS A TEACHER OF HISTORY AND ONE WORTHY TO MIND MY NECESSITIES A TITLE OF RESPECT IS IN ORDER. DO NOT CONCERN YOURSELF WITH SUCH FORMALITIES, MADAM JENNIFER, FOR YOU MAY CONTINUE TO REFER TO MY WONDERFUL SELF SIMPLY AS ‘BLACKBIRD’.”

Well crap. Jennifer would have expected him to make fun of her for the dress. It was probably payback for making him stay in the tee-shirt tent. She decided to allow him his fun and let it slide. What harm could a little teasing do? “Okay then. I wanted to say; ‘thank you’. I saw that you charged my phone and computer while I was busy. I appreciate the help.” She did. It was a small thing, but somehow it made her feel a little stronger.

Blackbird glanced at her, his blue eye lights bright and the same purple-blue haze started to dust his skull again before he coughed and brushed her thanks off. “A SIMPLE TASK, EASILY AND NECESSARILY DONE.”

For a racketeer, he was kind of a pushover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not to give any spoilers but for anyone nervously eyeing that sexual harassment tag: This is as bad as it gets.


	7. Just Another Manic Monday

Her freshly charged phone gave Jennifer access to good news. The transcription money had successfully transferred, Jennifer now had money for such luxuries as a full tank of gas and food. They hit the highway, it was worth the gas to find a supermarket in the next largish town. Supporting local stores was all well and good, but local economy wouldn’t stretch Jennifer’s dollars as far as she needed.

In the supermarket parking lot, Jennifer killed the engine and looked to the store, then down at Blackbird. She couldn’t leave him in the car, but for some reason she didn’t want to just let him out on his own like she’d done that morning in Hobbler. Some people apparently always kept their Bitties with them, like babies or something. But Blackbird wasn’t a baby, he was her potential nark. A five-inch-tall lying snitch who could easily be dusted in a high traffic parking lot with runaway carts and scavenger crows four times his size. “Do you want to come inside with me?”

Blackbird jumped, then tried to act nonchalant as he scoffed. “AND WHAT DO YOU PROPOSE, MADAM? I WILL NOT BE CARRIED IN A BAG LIKE A PURSE PET!”

Jennifer shrugged and pushed her door open. “I don’t know. What do Bitty owners usually do when they go somewhere?”

“PURSES AND CARRIERS.” Blackbird spat. Despite the scorn in his tone, Blackbird was thoughtful as he looked Jennifer over, seeing she had no purse or carrier. She wasn’t even reaching for her bag since she had her phone in hand and her wallet in her pocket. “BUT, SOMETIMES IT IS ACCEPTABLE FOR A MONSTER TO RIDE ON A HUMAN.”

Jennifer considered the options. On her head or on her shoulder? Neither seemed very stable. She always thought her shoulders were on the bony side and had never been able to do the walk thing with a book on her head. “Do you want to try?” She asked.

“It WOULD BE TOLERABLE.” Blackbird’s words were casual, but he crawled onto the console between their seats a little too fast to hide his eagerness. Jennifer offered him a hand and helped boost him up to her shoulder where he planted his rear on what little musculature she did have, bracing his boots on her collarbone and sitting proudly atop his sweet new ride. Jennifer saw him in her rear-view mirror and resisted the urge to smirk at how his eye lights shone. Guess shoulder rides were a big deal for Bitties, or this one at least.

Blackbird somehow stayed put as Jennifer climbed out of the car and locked it behind her, then retrieved a cart and headed into the store. He didn’t deign to leave his perch for the kiddy seat so she decided he must be okay.

They got a confused look from the elderly greeter at the door, but Jennifer kept walking, already trying to work through her grocery list in her head. They still didn’t know when the electricity would be back on, so food still had to be non-perishable and easily cooked with her single burner camping stove… which reminded her. She headed away from the grocery aisle and went through the camping gear, picking up another tin of propane for her stove, matches, and a new lantern battery. These burned most of the wiggle room she had in her budget. She headed back to the groceries when a teenager with the store’s vest stopped her.   
“Excuse me, ma’am?”

“Yep?” Jennifer asked.

“The store has a No Pets policy.” The young man said.

Jennifer tilted an eyebrow at him. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt Blackbird shift on her shoulder for the first time. “Understandable but random. Excuse me.” She started forward with her cart but he stepped in front of it, forcing her to stop.

“Miss.” Ma’am, then Miss. This kid needed to figure himself out. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave with your pet.” He looked blatantly at Blackbird.

Blackbird was many things, but not her _pet. _Jennifer couldn’t help glaring at the thought. Even though it was a minor glower the kid cowered, still in high school and not yet comfortable with confronting adults. “He is not a pet.” Jennifer explained.

The boy wasn’t done trying to weld the thin strap of authority he believed the store gave him. “If he’s a registered service animal then I need to see-”

“He’s definitely not an animal.” Jennifer almost shrugged, probably would have if Blackbird hadn't moved. “He’s not a pet, or any kind of animal, and his shoes and shirt are a heck of a lot better than yours or mine. There’s no reason to throw either of us out. Listen, there are a whole mess load of laws protecting Bitty monsters and not a whole lot protecting part-time workers from their own mistakes -believe me, I know. Choose your fights a little more carefully.”

The kid opened and closed his mouth, the mention of ‘law’ making him go a little pale. He meekly stepped out of the way. Jennifer nodded to him, smiling some to show he’d made the right decision as she continued shopping. Out of her line of sight, Blackbird made a dismissive gesture to the boy. “VERY WELL SAID, MADAM!” Jennifer grimaced at the sudden volume.

She finished her shopping, being sure to grab enough water to get through the week, should it be needed. At the checkout lane, the cashier and baggers boggled at Blackbird. They only focused on their work after Jennifer reminded them twice about her reusable bags. Word spread and a few more of the employees gathered at the entrance of the store and the greeter made a point of checking Jennifer’s receipt slowly so they had more time to stare at the Bitty.

As Jennifer pushed her cart through the parking lot, Blackbird scoffed. “SUCH SLOVENLY, UNPROFESSIONAL BEHAVIOR! HAVE THEY NEVER SEEN A MONSTER BEFORE?”

“Probably not.” Jennifer didn’t bother to specify regular monsters or Bitty monsters, the same answer applied to both. Blackbird considered this in silence.

Since appearing from Mount Ebott more than a decade before, monsters hadn’t spread very far. There were only enough monsters to fit under one mountain after all and the world was a big place. When the Bitty monsters were produced just a few years later they were expensive. Grand theft, federal prison expensive; as Jennifer was painfully aware. Someone who could afford to drop that much money on one or more Bitty wasn’t likely to live far from the specialty resources to maintain their valuable ‘exotic designer pets’.

Oh. Right… maybe he was technically a pet. He still wasn’t _her _pet, though.

Blackbird hopped down from her shoulder and resumed his usual place in the front passenger seat while Jennifer unloaded the groceries and returned the cart. In the car again, Jennifer fished out her phone and ran a quick search on Bitty food. There actually was ‘Bitty Chow’ -pellets and such which looked like crappy dog chow and came with all the usual ‘20% more flavor’ tags crappy dog chow came with. On the other end of the scale were magic square steaks and glittering ‘glam burgers’ (which might not actually be food.) Somewhere in the middle were some items which might be worth considering later… when Jennifer had an actual budget to work with rather than a fleeting lifeline.

The sun was setting when they returned to the little clearing and tiny house. Jennifer hauled the groceries into the winter pantry and replaced the lantern battery before starting dinner. Blackbird watched with curiosity as Jennifer broke out her kitchen knife and cutting board to chop carrots, onions, and apples. She fried these with a couple pork chops and served the food with glasses of milk still cold from the store; a little splurge before they resigned themselves to non-perishables.

It was still a pain working with the single burner camper stove, but Jennifer had fun cooking again. She didn’t even care the only person she had to share the food with was her little extortionist. It still felt good to see the look on his little skull when she set the plate in front of him. She’d cut his pork chop into strips so he wouldn’t need to wrangle a knife -her spoons were difficult enough. He happily used his hands to hold the strips and take bites from the meat, interchanging with the vegetables and bits of apple. Though he always cleaned his… bowl before, he’d never eaten with such obvious contentment, his little facial bones dusting blue-purple and his eyes closing to savor the food. Watching him slowed Jennifer down. Despite their size difference, he finished long before she did. He drained his milk and Jennifer offered him seconds. She’d only gotten two pork chops for them to split, but she happily gave him the rest of the veggie-apple medley and the quart of milk. While he worked through his second helping, Jennifer forced herself to focus and finish her own plate instead of dawdling and watching Blackbird eat.

After cleaning up, Jennifer found her book and script. She debated silently with herself, then looked up from the two to see Blackbird was watching her. Jennifer indicated the book, they only had a couple chapters left. “Would you like to finish this with me?” She asked.

Blackbird perked up. “NATURALLY! THE BRILLIANT BLACKBIRD HAS AIDED YOU THUS FAR THROUGH YOUR STUDIES, I SHALL CERTAINLY CONTINUE TO ASSIST UNTIL YOU HAVE MASTERED THE MATERIAL.”

That wasn’t what she meant, but Jennifer felt she was starting to see through his bluster and was glad he enjoyed their reading time together as much as she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find that usually the "Defend Monsters Rights" moment seems to include the MC making big huge pronouncements against overt bigots who either react with bitterness or by seeing the light an apologizing. I'm hoping for something less dramatic. Most bigots aren't comic book villains. This is just a kid, and Jennifer, in a teachable moment.


	8. Chores and Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinly veiled Bitty exposition. The plot doesn't move forward much (yes, there is a plot in here!) and my take on Bitties is far from shocking, so feel free to skim the part at the laundromat. Don't worry, you won't hurt my feelings. Sansy promise.

“MADAM! AWAKEN IMMEDIATELY OR I SHALL STRIKE YOU WITH THE COOKING SPOON!”

Jennifer groaned into her pillow, “What is this? Groundhog’s Day?”

“YOU HAVE NEGLECTED TO SET THE ALARM ON YOUR CELLULAR PHONE!” Blackbird scolded. Jennifer grunted and burrowed through her sleeping bag to confirm. The screen lit up, still juiced from the day before, though getting low. Jennifer had definitely forgotten to turn the alarm on.

She’d also forgotten to hide the wooden spoon.

“I’m up, I’m up.” Jennifer muttered, beginning the process of crawling free of her sleeping bag. Monday Jennifer had cleaned up and changed in silence, but apparently Blackbird had had it with her behavior.

“MADAM, YOU REALLY MUST BE MORE RESPONSIBLE CONCERNING YOUR SLEEP SCHEDULE! YOU’VE BEEN TURNING IN AT A SUFFICIENT TIME LATELY BUT I AM SURE THIS IS ONLY BECAUSE THE LACK OF ELECTRICAL LIGHT AND…” Jennifer used a wet washcloth to clean herself and brushed dry shampoo through her hair as Blackbird stood on the desk, lecturing her through the door. While she dressed, he finished detailing her deplorable sleeping habits and moved on to the matter of the unlocked front door. In fact, she had a bad habit of also leaving the car unlocked, a bad habit Blackbird had taken note of and now took pains to scold her over. He repeated horror stories of horrible things that happened to humans who left doors unlocked while Jennifer fired up the camping stove and mixed some instant egg mix for breakfast. The lecture continued vigorously as Jennifer plated the eggs and set the food on the desk but came to an abrupt silence when he took a bite of the eggs.

Jennifer waited for him to finish eating or swallow or something and continue to rant at her. He didn’t say anything. Silently thanking her lucky stars, Jennifer bit onto her own eggs. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stop from gagging or spitting. After a minute of careful effort Jennifer swallowed the ‘eggs’. She looked down at the Bitty. He looked up at her with the same expression of wounded horror.

“You know what? I’m still full from last night.” Jennifer said. “You?”

“CERTAINLY MADAM.”

Jennifer took both plates and chucked their contents outside for the animals to find -and choke on. She threw together some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with apples for lunch. Blackbird marched from the house while Jennifer shoved her dirty clothes into a duffle before locking up and following the Bitty to the car.

Jacob and Jennifer spent the day on inventory; counting tee shirts, books, pens, and plastic baubles sold in the gift shop. They all brown bagged for lunch -Jacob formally met Blackbird then. Blackbird praised Jacob on his discipline technique with Isaac, and Jennifer made sure Jacob knew Blackbird had been indispensable in her studies for the museum.

They finished the inventory that afternoon and Jacob sent her off early. Instead of heading home, Jennifer tracked down the laundromat. Blackbird was curious about this place, as if he’d not seen one before. Maybe he hadn’t. Her neighbors seemed too conceited to have ever used one. Jennifer loaded two machines with her laundry, hopped on top of one to surf the net. Blackbird explored, striding around as the mighty general inspecting his new command. The front door was propped open should Blackbird need it.

Jennifer searched for information on Bitties. She watched a couple ads for pet stores with Bitties and grimaced. “I love you, Mama!” the sugary sweet Punnies and starry-eyed Baby Blues invariably sounded like they were in doll commercials. More searching taught Jennifer that if a website had anything to do with Bitty stores or their products, she could expect no valuable information, not even useful care instructions. Finally, Jennifer found blogs and chat forums run by people who owned Bitties. Even that was a little… disappointingly shallow until she came across the rescue forums -people who had adopted from Bitty rescue centers or found abandoned Bitties and adopted them. These forum conversations ranged from basic care and responsibilities any decent Bitty caretaker should do (and too many people didn’t) to dealing with psychological issues that might arise.

Not surprisingly, there were no forums on what to do when blackmailed by Bitties. There were, however, several forums praising all the laws that could drop Jennifer in federal prison faster than she could say ‘Jack Robinson’ and several threads hoping for more severe prosecution of these laws. How nice.

Jennifer backed up a couple pages and focused on basic care forums. Food was the same as she’d previously read, though she was intrigued to learn that Bitties and Ebott monsters of the same size had different serving size requirements. Some people thought this was a side effect of their synthetic creation, but nobody seemed willing to delve further into the subject. Mentioning the Bitties were synthetic seemed a good way to kill any Bitty conversation thread.

Healthy, loved Bitties could live indefinitely on either a whole magic food diet, or a diet of all human food prepared with love, but regardless of diet physical contact was _absolutely essential._

Jennifer glanced over the phone at Blackbird. He’d climbed on top of the dryers using an abandoned broom and was reading the machine instructions bolted to the wall. Physical contact. Was that why he’d been so psyched about riding on her shoulder yesterday? There wasn’t specific information on how much physical contact was necessary, those threads always devolved into everyone loving their Bitties _so much_ and the tiny monsters being _so adorable_ that cuddles and kisses were constant. It was impossible to even picture cuddling Blackbird.

Moving on. Clothes should be changed about as regularly as with humans. Although Bitties didn’t stink they did shed. Skeleton ‘Bitty Bones’ shed a chalky powder and some types were prone to sweating magic (que an abundance of comments about Cherry and Edgy types.) That didn’t sound good. Blackbird had been wearing the same leather outfit since… ever.

There were frequent warnings against using doll clothes. Doll clothes weren’t made properly and Bitties found them extremely uncomfortable if not degrading and humiliating. Bitties should have clothes made with special stitching and materials. Leather had to be tanned, graded, dyed, and stitched differently than leather for human clothing.

Jennifer ran a search for clothes resembling Blackbird’s outfit. OUCH! Holy Toledo and SNAP! Brenda didn’t own any clothes that expensive and never had! The gloves?! Her laptop was cheaper! Looking up more options didn’t turn up anything suitable that would be in Jennifer’s price range any time soon, if ever. Yikes!

Back to the forums; it was common for owners with tighter budgets to only get a couple cheap outfits and wash them frequently, but a lot of adoptees made their own. There were a lot of pictures of Bitties in handmade clothes that didn’t look much better than doll clothes aside from being soft and warm. Many of these Bitties looked like they were wearing tiny flour sacks or “T” shirts designed by kindergartners -sewing really wasn’t common knowledge anymore. Most of the caretakers insisted their Bitties were delighted with these homemade things and worn old shirts were highly recommended for material.

Jennifer glanced at Blackbird again. He was puzzling over the coin machine. His scarf was knotted so the loose ends stood proudly erect. Overall he presented with the pride and tidiness of a military officer. Stick him in one of those rough sack options? Jennifer didn’t see it happening. There were a few patterns for basic clothes that should fit common types and sizes of Bitties but Jennifer was still skeptical of both Blackbird’s willingness to wear and her own ability to sew. Instead she looked up the best ways to home clean extremely expensive clothing.

Jennifer switched her clothes to the dryer with Blackbird watching her closely -which made switching her delicates an uncomfortable experience. The transfer of clothing properly supervised to completion and the machines rumbling pleasantly, Blackbird wandered off again and Jennifer returned to her research.

Bitty health concerns were mostly caused by injuries, abuse, neglect, or issues with ‘soul bonds’. All that soul stuff didn’t make sense to Jennifer so she put that off and instead stuck with the basics. This Bitty didn’t appear to be broken, sick, or crazy so she checked a thread on skull cracks in Bitty Bones. Boss types and SF class Bitty Bones were apparently extremely prone to socket cracks, so much so that some people thought it might be a sign of emotional distress or an intentional manufacturing decision (or both, darker comments suggested.)

Not sure what to do with that, but the forums insisted the cracks were harmless once healed so Jennifer moved on.

Cleaning. Most Bitties needed to be cleaned regularly, almost as frequently as humans. There was particular note that bitty bones should _bathe_. They needed either a bath or shower to get all their little crevices properly cleaned, a wipe down wouldn’t work. (Grillbitties were the opposite, all they needed was an infrequent pat down with a dry cloth and water was to be avoided.)

Again, Jennifer tilted her phone down and looked at Blackbird. He was standing on one of the few chairs, looking out a window. When was the last time he’d bathed? Jennifer remembered the running water waking her in the hotel. Had it been so long? Once a week was supposed to be the absolute minimum, and then it was for protecting injuries. The tiny house wasn’t exactly a clean place to live yet so…

Jennifer felt better for her research, but not quite satisfied by the time the dryers finished. She folded her clothes and repacked her clothes before leaving. Blackbird marched out ahead of her. Watching him stride ahead, Jennifer thought about the forums discussing physical contact. He’d never asked her to touch him, just climbed on when he deemed it appropriate or accepted with barely contained pleasure when she offered.

Was she supposed to be carrying him instead of letting him walk around on his own like this? And he might not weight a thing, but how long would those boots last? Those crazy expensive boots that Jennifer couldn’t replace whatsoever. Why the heck did he choose her to drag into this?

They returned to the house with Jennifer still deep in thought. Blackbird wasn’t sure why she was so pensive, but he let her be.

Dinner was the College Student Special; ramen with fresh cut veggies and Vienna sausages. Another pot of water was placed on the burner to heat while they ate.

Jennifer again pretended to focus on her food while watching Blackbird eat. He used a spoon for the broth, one hand on the neck and the other on the tip of the spoon’s bowl. Though she’d given him a fork, Blackbird preferred to use his hands for the noodles and toppings, then meticulously cleaned his hands on the napkin she’d given him. After he’d eaten, Blackbird used the first bit of water from his bottle to clean his hands and dried them again on the napkin before drinking the rest. It was his habit, but she’d not thought about it before. He liked to be clean.

When they’d finished eating, Jennifer wiped the dishes clean as usual, then scrubbed the sink the best she could with as little water as possible. That done, she plugged the drain and set a clean washcloth in the bottom of the sink, draped a hand towel over the edge, and filled the sink with more water until she thought it was somewhere between knee high and waist deep for the bitty. She poured the hot water from the burner into the sink and checked that the final temperature was bearable before adding a bar of soap and another washcloth.

None of this was routine and Blackbird hovered on the desk. He was curious but never so much that he’d look in the bathroom when it was occupied -humans did things in there that couldn’t be unseen!

Finally, Jennifer stepped over to the desk addressed him directly. “Alright, Blackbird, I’ve got a bath ready for you.” His eye lights flared, though Jennifer wasn’t sure what that meant right now. She just held out her hand. “It looks tough to get up to the sink, so I’ll give you a lift. I’ll also need your clothes… while you bathe.”

“uh… OF COURSE, MADAM!” She must have caught him by surprise, but he snapped out of it and settled into her hand. Jennifer carried him to the sink’s drainboard, which acted as a shelf. After Blackbird climbed down Jennifer turned around, facing away from him with her hand behind her back. A minute later she felt him setting tiny articles of clothing in her hand until he announced. “THAT IS EVERYTHING.” Jennifer left him alone in the bathroom, though she kept the door cracked in case he needed help.

Jennifer spread Blackbird’s clothes on the desk. Carefully referring to the instructions she’d gotten off the internet, Jennifer used vinegar, baking soda, a little water and rags to clean his leathers. Surprisingly, there was also a soft black undershirt that she hadn’t seen before. The shirt and his red scarf were washed by hand with soap and water. The leather used almost no water to clean and could be wiped dry, but Jennifer fired up her little portable stove again and lay the shirt and scarf near the small burner fire to dry a little faster.

The boots and gloves stumped her, so she was forced to just set them aside. If they needed cleaning, that was going to have to rest on Blackbird.

The bathroom remained quiet aside from the odd splish. Jennifer figured Blackbird was small enough that he wouldn’t make a lot of noise when he cleaned himself, but some of the forums had also suggested that if the water was hot enough, most bitty bones liked to soak. Was it hot enough? While she waited, Jennifer pulled out her phone and looked through a few more forums but didn’t find anything else particularly interesting.

“MADAM?” Blackbird called. Jennifer retrieved his clothes, making sure they were dry before heading for the bathroom. Blackbird had used the hand towel to climb out of the sink and now stood wrapped in a washcloth. With his little bone feet poking out from the material and a corner of the cloth draped over his skull, Jennifer was momentarily struck by how cute he was. Just like a little bird.

She suppressed her reaction to the image and carefully set his clothes on a dry portion of the shelf. “Do you need anything else?” She asked.

“NO, MADAM. THIS IS ALL I REQUIRE.” Blackbird replied, blue purple dusting his skull.

“Okay, I’ll give you a minute to change.”

Blackbird watched as his human left the bathroom, almost closing the door behind her again. He picked up his leather jacket and was struck by the smell. It stank of vinegar and baking soda and would probably still stink after airing all night. She’d done a very amateurish job cleaning the leather. The shirt and scarf also smelled faintly of propane. Clearly his human didn’t know how to care for such a high-quality uniform. Blackbird had meticulously cared for his uniform for years. Leather was brushed daily to remove grit. Stains were wiped off and cleaned as necessary. Special oils had to be procured for treating the gloves and boots, they could easily have been ruined if Madam had attempted to clean them with the same lack of skill she’d used on the jacket.

The sink he’d just bathed in was far deeper than Blackbird was tall, forcing him to use a towel like a cargo net ladder to get in and out of the water. The soap was left sitting in the water, slimy and dissolving wastefully, and of course there were no hand clothes his size, much less the fine towels designed to thoroughly dry the nooks and crannies of skeleton monsters of Blackbird’s stature. His former owners had provided him with quarters equipped with bath and shower. The best in the market with hot and cold running water and every bath accessory necessary or desirable.

Blackbird snorted and shook out his jacket, then set it aside as he began to dress.

His previous owners hadn’t really bothered with the particulars of owning a Bitty. Blackbird doubted they were aware that his uniform required cleaning or maintenance. He was quite certain that they wouldn’t go out of their way to prepare him a bath if water was a restricted resource, much less ensure that it was warm and soothing.

Clearly, he’d chosen a highly superior human.


	9. Bugaboo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer gets an idea. So does Jacob, but he's quiet about it.

Jennifer carried a dust mop and some rags, following Jacob as they inventoried the museum’s displayed artifacts. She cleaned floors and shelves while he moved the delicate artifacts. “Some museums prefer to avoid touching their collection. That only leaves filth which attracts pests that do more harm than a little handling.” Jacob explained, settling a leather pistol holster into place like a father settling his infant son into bed. He closed and locked the display case, giving the glass a satisfied buff when the job was done. “It also looks better. There’s no excuse for thick layers of dust in a museum.”

Jennifer agreed.

They approached the next room. “Okay, spiel me.” Jacob ordered, resting one hand on the rope which kept visitors out of the room.

“In October of 1875, Heidrich LaMonte was murdered in this room, shot in the head. It was a busy day, the hotel was fully booked and Heidrich well known for being loud and obnoxious, as well as rough with the girls. Despite this, everyone denied having seen or heard anything pertaining to the murder. Notably; the local physician kept meticulous notes and on the same day Heidrich was murdered, the physician splinted one of the hotel girls’ arm, noting that she had heavy bruising and was covered in blood that wasn’t hers.”

Jacob nodded and removed the ropes. “You’ve got that one.” He said. Jennifer smiled. She swept under the bed and wiped the windows while Jacob marked off the inventory in his notebook. There wasn’t much in this room, just the usual furniture with bed linens left in disarray to suggest it was still the -bloodless- scene of the crime. This also allowed the museum to hide moth damage in the middle of the antique quilt.

The next room was set up so visitors could walk through. A collection of travel kits hung from one wall displaying what hotel guests of different classes might have traveled with -shaving kits, combs for hair and beards, clothes brushes, sewing kits, even full sets of fine dishware. Along another wall were shadowboxes displaying miniature versions of fashionable clothing for different years and classes.

A lightbulb flashed over Jennifer’s head as she looked these over, wondering how she’d missed these before. When Jacob unlocked the case and removed the first outfit -a fur trapper’s outfit- Jennifer grabbed his wrist and looked at it very closely. “What? You got a thing for Lewis and Clark or something?” His tone was blunt, there was an edge to it that hinted Jacob was more than ready to drop the boss roll and switch to ‘scholarly mentor’ in a heartbeat.

Jennifer studied the outfit before replying. The material looked stiff, it didn’t bend when Jacob angled the little stand the outfit was displayed on, but that looked like it was due to age. The leather jacket was especially vulnerable to the ravages of time. She squinted at the seams, which lay straight where doll clothes bunched up. “Do you know who made these?” She asked.

Jacob coughed. He spoke cautiously but his eyes shone with pride. “Isaac, actually. This project was how he got the job managing historic clothing and reproductions in the area. He may have issues working with ladies,” A shameless lecher requiring his brother’s very physical form of correction to behave? Yeah, ‘issues’, “but Isaac maintains the clothing displayed in twelve museums from nearby counties and singlehandedly manages a joint collection.”

“Huh.” Jennifer grunted, trying to hide her personal disdain. They returned to cleaning the display case of dust. Based on Isaac’s personal behavior, Jennifer was willing to give up entirely on the idea that had sparked a moment ago. She didn’t want anything more to do with the man than necessary for work, and not even that. It was a stretch anyway.

Jacob lifted another of the artifacts, a miniature reproduction of Captain Hobbler’s military uniform. Despite Jennifer’s resolve to dismiss what she’d already labeled a passing fancy, it was kind of hard not to notice the similarities to the militant design of Blackbird’s leathers…

Thursday, Jacob invited an elderly couple to come by and had Jennifer rehearse the tour for them. They were locals, frequent visitors, and patrons of the museum who gave wonderful advice on which questions were common or where children grew restless and the best way to speak and be heard in different areas. Jennifer went through the tour slowly, writing these suggestions and hints down. As they were finishing up, the woman wandered into the gift shop with Jennifer to see if there was anything new and immediately spotted Blackbird perched on the cash register. “Oh! My, is that one of those monsters?” She asked.

“Yes, he is.”

“Oh?” Her husband had been discussing Jennifer’s work with Jacob and leaned over to see what his wife was seeing. “Cool. Can we meet him?”

“Um,” Jennifer looked to the Bitty in question. “Blackbird? Would you like to meet these people?”

Blackbird hopped down from the cash register. “CERTAINLY, MADAM.” He was still calling her that. Maybe it was the museum?

Jennifer made introductions as Jacob and the man joined them in the gift shop. “Okay then; Mr. and Mrs. Sparks, this is Blackbird, a ‘razzberry’ Bitty Bones.” Trademark symbol here. “Blackbird, Mr. and Mrs. Sparks are supporters of the museum and natives of Hobbler.”

Blackbird nodded, almost giving a small formal bow. “A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU.”

“Likewise.” Mrs. Sparks beamed.

“Same here.” Mr. Sparks added.

“THE SAME SPARKS FAMILY AS THE MAYOR WHO SERVED DURING THE FIRST WORLD WAR?” Blackbird inquired conversationally. Jennifer blinked. That information sounded familiar, but she hadn’t made the connection herself.

Mrs. Sparks looked uncertainly to her husband, who laughed, “Whoa, man! Yeah, that was my granddad! A good guess or…?”

“MAYOR SPARKS’ PHOTOGRAPH IS DISPLAYED IN ROOM 24. YOU BEAR A RESEMBLANCE, MR. SPARKS.”

Sparks chuckled. “Right on. You know the museum already, I like that.”

Mrs. Sparks nodded. “I’m impressed.”

Blueish purple dusted across Blackbird’s skull though he boasted, “NO GREAT FEAT FOR ONE SUCH AS MYSELF.”

“Modest, too.” Mrs. Sparks teased, though Blackbird didn’t see it as such.

Jacob stood nearby, watching the exchange silently. Jennifer gave him a questioning look but he waved to assure her the interaction between Blackbird and the guests was fine.

Mr. Sparks checked his watch. “Well, it was groovy meeting you Blackbird, but we’ve got to be heading out.”

Mrs. Sparks checked her phone and nodded. “Oh yes. Thank you for meeting us, Mr. Blackbird.”

Blackbird repeated his formal half-bow. “OF COURSE.”

Mr. Sparks clapped Jacob’s shoulders familiarly, thanking him for letting them come in before the museum was technically open. Mrs. Sparks warmly shook hands with Jennifer, “You did wonderful, dear. We’ll be sure to stop by later in the summer when you’re more comfortable and see you in costume!”

Jennifer smiled. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

“Goodbye, Blackbird.”

“See ya, Blackbird.”

“GOODBYE.”

The Sparks left and Jacob was still looking thoughtful. He refused to say what was on his mind, though he often looked over at wherever Blackbird happened to be, obviously picking up on the Bitty’s movements the same way as Jennifer.


	10. Keep Trying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jennifer succeeds twice, and Blackbird probably doesn't know how much he really helps.

Friday was do-or-die as far as Jennifer was concerned.

She emerged from the storage room behind the gift shop still tugging the costume here and there. Isaac tutted and started to reach, then hesitated and looked between Jennifer and Jacob. Jacob’s growl remained at a low ebb and Jennifer sighed and gave a nod. Permission granted, Isaac set to work tugging the gown properly into place. “There, lovely. Perfect.” He purred. “How does it feel?” Jacob narrowed his eyes at his brother, but any insinuations were subtle enough to pass inspection

“It… doesn’t feel bad…” Jennifer admitted, surprised.

Pleased, Isaac flapped a hand at her. “You see? Nothing to worry about. Tight-lacing was a fad for flibbertigibbets. Properly worn, corsets were so comfortable some men wore them, and not just the mollies either. I know a gentleman in town who uses one, it eases his lumbago.”

“Huh.” Jennifer said.

“Head for the grand staircase.” Jacob ordered. “We got work to do.”

Though Isaac assured Jennifer he’d hemmed the skirts a little shorter than was strictly historically accurate, both men insisted on working with Jennifer to ensure she could walk safely. Jacob hovered like a protective shadow, always below her on the stairs. Isaac’s flirting dropped to almost nothing as he made Jennifer walk up and down the grand staircase, reminding her to mind her posture, hold the material well aside, and keep a hand on the railing.

Several laps up and down later, the three finally came to a stop to the side of the lobby where Jennifer remembered the tours started. The time had come. Despite having worked steadily on the script all week, she felt her stomach grow cold and her nerves twist wire tight. She needed to get this right. _Needed_ to. But how much she needed this might be her undoing. Her pulse thudded in her throat and she tried to remember the opening lines. _Welcome to the Historic Hobbler Hotel and Museum…_ something… This was stupid! She knew the spiel! She’d gone over it with Blackbird over breakfast!

“Ah!” Isaac beamed, looking around the place with newfound nostalgia. “Time for the tour?” A wave of discomfort rumbled through Jennifer’s stomach the moment somebody actually said it out loud. Maybe it was time for a little historic swooning? Except swooning wasn’t all that historic…

Jacob grunted and held up a hand. “A minute.” He turned toward the gift shop, then hesitated and dragged Isaac a couple more feet away from Jennifer before ducking into the other room. Jennifer hardly noticed, she just focused on trying to remember that second line, that stupid second line…

Jacob emerged again from the gift shop after just a minute or so, Blackbird perched on his shoulder. The older human was now grinning like a naughty schoolboy and the Bitty seemed amused.

“What the he-” Isaac glanced at Jennifer and his teeth clacked shut. “Jacob, what in the world?

Jacob gestured to his passenger. “This is Blackbird. He’s with Jennifer. Since he helped her learn the spiel, I figure he gets to see her dress rehearsal.” Blackbird nodded his approval, the general was prepared to watch his soldier march Pass and Review.

Isaac was still staring. “You have a Bitty on your shoulder.”

Jacob spoke in a lower cadence, as if addressing his baby brother of fifty or sixty years prior. “Yes. Yes, I do have a Bitty on my shoulder.”

“Hers?”

“YES.” Blackbird replied before Jennifer could deny ownership. “MADAM IS MY HUMAN CARETAKER.”

Isaac whistled. “Now this is a surprise.” He blinked rapidly as his brain caught up. “Oh, did you say Blackbird?”

“Yep.”

“Blackbird… good name. Isaac Patterns.” Blackbird nodded, already aware both of the man’s name and of the superiority of his own.

“We good?” Jacob asked.

Isaac slowly nodded.

“I EAGERLY AWAIT MADAM’S PRESENTATION.” Blackbird agreed.

Jacob clapped his hands once, then waved to Jennifer. “The museum’s yours.”

Just as quickly as the bout of stage-fright struck, it had vanished as Jennifer was distracted by Isaac’s meeting Blackbird. Nerves settled and with Blackbird’s eye lights trained on her, the lines that had been hiding from her dislodged. Not only did the lines come easy, but Jennifer remembered what Blackbird had said when he’d started calling her ‘Madam’ and even the character to play while giving the lines fell naturally into place. Despite being just an intern; Jennifer was a teacher of history.

With that thought, it felt entirely natural as Jennifer straightened her posture, hands folding over her abdomen as she smiled. “Welcome to the Historic Hobbler Hotel and Museum. Allow me to guide you through this jewel of Hobbler’s fascinating history…”

Jennifer led them through the three floors of the hotel, speaking with a cadence that felt natural to this role as teacher. Her memory faltered in front of room 32 as it always did, but she was able to cover this mistake with some trivia from the book. When Isaac asked a question about room 24, she answered it easily. When Jacob quizzed her on something from room 12 while they were in the dining room, Jennifer answered readily and only stumbled a little before returning to the script. She recovered more smoothly when Blackbird demanded to know if there had been anything _exciting -_as the Sparks had warned bored children often asked.

Though her tour had a few hiccups, Jennifer still felt confident when they returned to the lobby and she invited her three ‘tourists’ to visit the gift shop before concluding their visit. Her voice still rang off the high ceiling while Isaac and Jennifer looked to Jacob for his final grade.

The curator frowned and rubbed at his face as if checking for stubble, then settled into a deeply thoughtful stance.

Blackbird was smirking.

“Oh, give it up, Jacob! She nailed it!” Isaac punched his brother’s unoccupied shoulder.

“Heh,” Jacob allowed himself to grin as he rocked with the punch. “Yeah, she did. That’s probably the best tour rehearsal I’ve seen since… mine.” He shrugged immodestly.

“Absolute-” Isaac frowned. “But, I toured here after… _HEY_!”

“NATURALLY! MADAM IS MORE THAN SUITABLE FOR ANY POSITION SHE WOULD AIM FOR. THE PRESENTATION WAS NEARLY FLAWLESS. I COULD HARDLY HAVE DONE BETTER MYSELF.”

Jacob chuckled and held up a hand for Blackbird to hop on. “You’re still stuck on room 32, and you can’t pronounce Sjöberg right; but that’s easily fixed. Good job.” He passed Blackbird onto Jennifer’s shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “We don’t have any tours currently scheduled for Monday, but stay on your toes because I plan to throw you to the sharks should anyone come in.”

“Will do.” Jennifer nodded, just a little light-headed from her success.

The museum curator turned his attention back to Blackbird, “If you plan to stick around, we’re going to have to come up with a plan for you.” Jacob said. “Tours are meant to be an immersive experience and there were no Bitties in the eighteen hundreds.”

“I SHALL REMAIN IN THE GIFT SHOP DURING GUEST TOURS.” Blackbird announced.

“And if you could keep your voice to a moderate level?” Jacob pressed.

If Blackbird was embarrassed or insulted, he didn’t let it show, “Of course.”

“Thanks, Blackbird.”

“Speaking of Blackbird, Isaac?” Jennifer piped up before she could talk herself out of it, again.

Isaac shook himself from the downer he’d been reveling in following his brother’s last slight. “Yes, my sweet?” He asked. Jacob’s eye twitched as it always did when Isaac broke out the pet names.

Jennifer stared at Isaac, disapproving. The man only smiled innocently so she forced herself to press on. “Do you take commissions? I’m looking for an estimate.”

Isaac perked, genuine interest showing through cracks in his gawdy personality. “I haven’t been offered a commission in years. What do you have in mind?”

“Jacob said you did the miniature clothes displays.” She gestured to Blackbird. “Could you do something for a Bitty?” Blackbird twitched on Jennifer’s shoulder and when she glanced at him the Bitty was staring at her with incredulous surprise nearly matched by Jacob.

Isaac pressed two fingers to his mouth and focused intently. For a change his gestures were precise and thoughtful rather than dramatic and broad. “Hmmm…” He considered deeply, stepping to the side and eyeing Blackbird with a more analytical eye than he’d given Jennifer during her fitting. “I think Patricia Hodgkins from my alma-mater has done some work with monsters. I’ll give her a call.” Isaac stepped behind Jennifer, then retraced his steps, never taking his eyes off Blackbird. “I would need a higher quality fabric, but not much of it… You do realize I’m a professional with forty years’ experience, my dear?”

“Um…”

“Never mind. This is such an opportunity. There are so many ways I could reap a profit off this. The Bitty market is still wide open, and I’ve been wanting to try something new. Blackbird is a Sansy variant? Yes, I can certainly work with that…” Isaac fell silent for a while, hands still pressed firmly to his lips as he continued to stare at Blackbird, thinking. Finally, he smiled, straightened, and clapped his hands much like Jacob before lowering them. “I’d be delighted! For a miniature, historically accurate outfit like the ones upstairs I would now charge anywhere from ninety dollars to a thousand.” Jennifer squeaked in alarm. One end of that price range was just like what she’d seen online, the other end went even higher.

“However,” Isaac continued, then grew distracted. An almost wicked grin suddenly spread across his face as ideas continued to occur to him. “I’ll apply for a grant! This is wonderful!” Isaac whipped a memo pad from his pocket and started writing and sketching, flipping pages and scribbling with his pen, apparently completely forgetting everyone and everything around him.

Jacob waited several minutes while his brother used up at least fifteen pages from the notebook before nudging Isaac firmly. “Ow… oh.” Like a man coming out of a dream, Isaac looked around, then blinked at Jennifer. “Ah, yes. I would be delighted to do several designs for your Bitty’s personal wardrobe at cost of materials so long as he agrees to permit me to photograph him in the clothes and answer any questions pertaining to his clothes. Is this agreeable?”

Jennifer tilted her head enough to look at Blackbird. “Sound good to you?”

Blackbird looked critical of the idea. “If you are satisfied with the requirements and conditions, then I agree to the terms.” He said slowly.

“Excellent!” Isaac firmly shook Jennifer’s hand, then offered a finger to Blackbird to shake. “This is marvelous. I have to…” He glanced at the notebook, his grin growing larger. “I have to get to work on this! I have grant proposals and contracts to write! Designs to make! Oh!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tape measure, frowning at it. “This won’t work. Blackbird, can I take your measurements on Monday?”

“You may.” Blackbird allowed.

“Excellent! Excellent!” Isaac grabbed Jennifer hand warmly, patting her shoulder with firm affection, then seized Jacob’s hand and kissed the knuckles before darting out of the museum.

Jacob wiped the back of his hand against his pants. “Ew.”

“What just happened?” Jennifer asked, spooked.

“Inspiration. Isaac goes a little crazy when he’s inspired.” Jacob explained, wiping his hand again for good measure. “Though I’ve never seen him that bonkers.”

“Should I be scared?”

“Nah, you’re fine.” Jacob assured her, then smirked at Blackbird. “Good luck, buddy.”

Blackbird’s eye lights dimmed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isaac is really, really difficult to write. I can't quite say I like him, but he's a plot driver.


	11. Small Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jennifer does NOT take small things for granted, and a small thing does not take her for granted.

A pickup truck Jennifer didn’t recognize was parked next to the tiny house when they returned for the evening. A woman in overalls was working near the top of the windmill. She climbed down and met Jennifer as she was stepping out of her own car.

“Hey there! You must be the new tenant. I’m Lisa, Hank’s daughter.” The woman wiped her hands with a rag before offering one hand to Jennifer.

“Hank….” Jennifer prompted, taking the hand.

“Hank Thompson.”

“Thomps… Oh! Right, the landlord. I’m Jennifer.” They shook.

“I’m here to hook up your water and electricity. The windmill’s in operating condition now so if you don’t mind letting me in, I’ll get everything else hooked up and get out of your hair.”

Mr. Thompson said he had to ‘call a guy’. Odd turn of phrase for asking his daughter to manage things. Jennifer led the way to the cabin and unlocked the front door to allow Lisa inside. She took one look around and whistled. “How long you been here?”

“Little over a week.”

“Dad should have called me two weeks ago.” Lisa grumbled, pulling a flashlight from a pocket and setting to work.

Blackbird came in behind them. Jennifer hesitated, then leaned down and offered him her hand. He hardly glanced at her -eye lights flaring again- before crawling onto her palm and allowing Jennifer to lift him to her shoulder. Progress?

Lisa started the water from the main and ran the sink and shower to clear the pipes before tasting the water for sediment. She tested the electrical sockets and light fixtures before and after turning the electricity on. Jennifer almost cried as the house brightened. Lisa turned to Jennifer and started to say something, then froze as she finally saw Blackbird. “It’s one of those monsters!” She gasped, “No, it’s a… a Bitty? I never thought I’d see one in person!” She leaned forward in awe, standing just a little too close to Jennifer. “Wow. It’s so cute!”

“His name is Blackbird.” Jennifer said, trying not to lean hard on the word ‘his’.

Lisa smiled, charmed. “Blackbird, what a cool name. Hey there little guy.” She crooned, her voice going up a full octave.

“Hello, human.” Blackbird replied, his tone dry.

Lisa’s eyes widened. “They really can talk!” She marveled. “What else does he say?”

Jennifer felt a muscle on her face twitch. “I don’t know. Blackbird, do you speak anything but English?”

When Blackbird looked at her, Jennifer thought he looked amused. “No, Madam. I only speak English though I perfectly understand both Hands and American Sign Language and have a fair comprehension of Spanish.” Jennifer waved a hand to him -ta dah.

Lisa was struck dumb, jaw slack and eyes painfully wide. After a few beats her hands flew to her mouth and she stepped back. “Oh my gosh; they’re intelligent. He’s intelligent. You’re… I’m sorry. Really, I am sorry. That was really, really rude of me.”

“Apology accepted, human. I understand that I am quite the sight for those unaccustomed to monsters.” Blackbird, the magnanimous ruler, forgiving the filthy peasants their filthy peasant ways.

“But.” Lisa couldn’t stop herself from adding. “You really are cute.”

“Yep.” Jennifer agreed. “He is cute.”

Blackbird went as brightly blue-purple as Jennifer had ever seen him. “Of-of course! I am a prime specimen of a skeleton!” He tried for his usual bluster but it seemed to be failing him.

Lisa giggled, then returned to her work. She had to turn the lights and electricity off again to install a solar panel on the roof, but within two hours of Jennifer and Blackbird arriving home Lisa had finished, bestowing upon them the gifts of running well water and mostly off-grid electricity. She even cleaned out the rain barrel and set it below the roof’s drain spout.

Jennifer thanked Lisa profusely and after the landlord’s daughter left Jennifer took a moment to revel in the luxury of a livable, modern house. Lights, power, water, heat, and a functioning kitchen. She plugged in her laptop and phone to delight in the little charging signals.

Blackbird hopped down from her shoulder onto the desk. He crossed his arms and started tapping a boot. “Well?” He demanded.

Jennifer looked down at him, wondering what the matter was this time. “Hungry yet?” She guessed.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Madam. The lighting and water are finally in order. Clearly it is time to resume cleaning this house!”

Jennifer blinked in surprise, then snorted. “There you are.” She greeted the return of the tiny tyrant. “I was beginning to wonder.”

Blackbird stomped. “I’ve been here, on _your_ shoulder, the entire time! You are being nonsensical! Begin cleaning immediately!”

“Alright, alright. I’m on it.” She relented, putting her hands up in surrender before setting to work.

By the time the sun went down Jennifer had cleaned the bathroom, kitchen, and her loft thoroughly. She made soup over rice using the luxury of the three-burner stove which cut cooking time by half. After dinner she resumed cleaning.

Jennifer fell into a sort of zen state, almost trance like as she scrubbed along one of the built-in shelves. Just peaceful scrubbing and no thinking. She’d nearly finished with the long section of shelving when Blackbird interrupted. Jennifer had been so focused on her task he’d reverted to his usual tone to get her attention. “MADAM! IT IS GETTING LATE!”

She blinked as she looked up, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face with the back of her wrist. “I know, I just want to…”

“MADAM! IT IS PAST TIME YOU WENT TO BED!” Blackbird insisted. “AND DO NOT NEGLECT TO LOCK THE DOOR!

“It’s Friday, I don’t work tomorrow.” Jennifer insisted.

“YOU HAVE PLENTY OF WORK TO BE DONE TOMORROW! YOU SHOULD GET TO BED AND REST SO THAT YOU MAY COMPLETE THE WORK WITH THE GREATEST OF EFFICIENCY!” Blackbird barked. “FOR NOW, IT IS TIME TO SLEEP! AND LOCK THAT INFERNAL DOOR FIRST!”

“Fine!” Jennifer huffed and dried her hands. She locked the door and climbed to the loft, then had to climb back down and turn off the lights before going back to bed.

Blackbird went to his own nest shortly after, shaking his skull over such a human. He _knew _she’d try staying up again as soon as the lights were functioning. He knew it and he was right! Now, he predicted this would be a persistent problem.

His human still required a great deal of work…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short Chapter. Might post again this weekend, want to get back to the current plot points soon but there's some... uh... "housekeeping" to do character wise.


	12. Home Making

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claiming territory and moving forward, despite everything.

For a change, Blackbird didn’t wake Jennifer. He was aware that humans liked to wastefully ‘sleep in’ on weekends and decided to permit her such indulgence.

When Jennifer did get up, she was eager to start and finish the day’s cleaning. Getting up to start breakfast, she almost missed the sight of Blackbird standing on the back of the built-in bench, cleaning the window with a rag draped over the same cooking spoon he preferred to threaten her with most mornings.

Better the window than her skull.

After a hurried breakfast of fried SPAM and baked beans, Jennifer grabbed another rag and was about to set back to work on the bottom shelf of the bookcase, only to find it had already been thoroughly cleaned, as had the desk. This gave Jennifer pause. Where had Blackbird gotten the water to do all this cleaning? There was no change in the bottled water since last night. There was nothing near the sink he could have easily climbed. How could he have scaled the slick sides of the porcelain toilet and jumped from there?

She shook her head, no idea how he’d done it. Obviously he had, because there was a lot of clean space she’d not cleaned herself and he’d done a better job of it, too… much as she hated to admit it.

“Thanks for the help, Blackbird.” Jennifer called.

“I live here, too. It is only logical that I assist in menial chores.” Blackbird scoffed, back to his new ‘indoor voice’.

Jennifer set to work again, cleaning the bench inside and out before sweeping, then scrubbing the entire floor aside from what her stuff covered in the winter pantry. After giving the porch a quick sweep top to bottom -banishing a few more spiders from the eaves- Jennifer started opening boxes. Blackbird took his rag to start cleaning the pantry shelves, which also put him in a prime position to see what Jennifer unboxed -entirely a coincidence and not at all spying for his own curiosity.

At first, the unpacking proved mundane. Jennifer had been mostly packed before Blackbird had snuck into her old house, so he didn’t know what to expect. He probably should have expected this. More kitchen supplies, shower curtain, bathmats, toolbox, sewing kit, office supplies... Blackbird lost interest and focused on cleaning again until Jennifer made a happy noise while pulling one of several identical boxes stacked closer. She cut through the tape and opened this box to reveal books. The box was entirely filled with books.

Blackbird dropped his rag and openly stared as Jennifer grabbed the books out in twos and fours, then hurried to put them in the bookcase. Brightly colored paperbacks, serious looking brown hardbacks, thick spines that filled Jennifer’s hand, thin books that were simply folded and stapled pages, so many different kinds filled the box top to bottom and side to side. The box was soon emptied and flattened, put aside with the rest. Blackbird watched eagerly as Jennifer opened the next box to reveal still more books! Books bound in cloth with yellow pages, bright white pages under shining plastic covers, books with little ribbons dangling out, books with covers that squished under Jennifer’s fingers, so many books, and Jennifer seemed as delighted to unpack each and every one as Blackbird was amazed to see another and another box opened to reveal them stuffed to the brim with books! Had he ever seen so many books? Certainly not!

Blackbird climbed down from the shelf he’d been working on and walked to the main room to see all the books being arranged on the shelves. The shelves spanned almost ten feet across one way and were built up around the desk to the height of the loft, but soon they were almost completely full. Some of the books were doubled up -one book shelved directly in front of another- and in a few places similar looking books were stacked on top of each other to save room. Jennifer stacked cookbooks on the bench so they’d be near the kitchen and even left a couple in the bathroom, resting on the back of the toilet. Another stack was taken into the loft and soon the only possible space left for a book was either in the pantry or on the shelf that was still empty aside from Blackbird’s nest. Yet there were still unopened boxes.

Jennifer grabbed another rag and set to cleaning the remaining pantry shelves with vigor. Blackbird returned to his shelf and they soon had the entire pantry clean. Jennifer opened the last of the boxes, two held more books that she quickly arranged on a pantry shelf -the books couldn’t have fit on Blackbird’s shelf anyway. The very last box was filled with memorabilia; photographs, stuffed animals, and a couple carefully packed knick-knacks. These were spread out throughout the small house. A placard was hung in the kitchen which read “Home is where the Hot Chocolate is”.

After cleaning the pantry floor, Jennifer threw all the cleaning rags and any dirty clothes or towels back into her duffle bag. She even grabbed her pillow and sleeping bag. “I’m hitting the laundromat again. Do you need your bedding washed?” Jennifer offered.

“Yes, that would be best.” Blackbird confirmed.

Jennifer nodded and put the nest in her laundry bag with everything else. Before leaving, she snagged a couple of the books she’d just unpacked, then paused. “Did you want to pick something?” She offered. Blackbird looked from her to the shelves. So many books! It would take time to familiarize himself with the titles and decide which interested him. “Or you could stay, if you wanted.”

Blackbird immediately turned on his heel and marched toward the door. “I shall accompany you.” He announced. “DO NOT FORGET TO LOCK THE DOOR!”

An older woman was already pulling her clothes from the dryer when Jennifer entered the laundromat with Blackbird on her shoulder. The woman noticed him with a start and stared for a little while before she remembered herself and continued unloading the machine. She only spread the clothes in her basket to minimize wrinkles before giving Jennifer and Blackbird a friendly wave and hurrying out to her car with her burden.

Jennifer started one washer with dirty laundry and cleaning cloths. Blankets, bedding, and clothing that had been sitting in the car for the past two weeks were loaded into two dryers to freshen up. Finally she settled on one of the machines and pulled out one of her books. Blackbird eagerly slid from her shoulder onto her lap. “Madam, what is this book?” He demanded.

“It’s a science fiction story about space travel, except instead of trying to use modern scientific knowledge, the author intentionally uses ancient theories of the cosmos.” Jennifer explained.

“That is absurd.” Blackbird scoffed.

“You said the same thing about sour dough bread.” She reminded him.

Blackbird reconsidered. “Very well, read me this ‘cosmos’ book.”

Jennifer was surprised, he hadn’t asked her to read before. Either he read out loud or they read silently together at work. She didn’t think her reading voice was nearly as nice as his, but she would give it a shot. Heaven knew if Blackbird didn’t like it, he’d demand she stop. “Note; Certain slighting references to earlier stories of this type which will be found in the following pages have been put there for purely dramatic purposes. The author would be sorry if any reader supposed he was too stupid to have enjoyed Mr. H.G. Wells’s fantasies or too ungrateful to acknowledge his debt to them. C.S.L.”

“To what ‘earlier stories of this type’ is the author referring to?” Blackbird said.

“When this book was first written, it was popular to write books about space travel.” Jennifer explained. “H.G. Wells was the best, but I don’t have his book.”

“Hmm. Continue.” Blackbird ordered.

She did. “Chapter one. The last drops of the thundershower had hardly ceased falling when the Pedestrian stuffed his map into his pocket…”

A young man came in to do his laundry while they were reading. He seemed bemused to see Jennifer reading out loud to herself until one of the dryers finished and she put the book down to reveal Blackbird. The young man openly gawked at the Bitty standing on the machine while Jennifer emptied first one, then the next dryer, folding the blankets and clothes and piling them up rather than taking them to the car and leaving Blackbird behind. It wasn’t until Blackbird and Jennifer had resumed their previous formation and the book blocked Blackbird from sight that the man remembered he’d come to a laundromat to do laundry.

Jennifer wondered how often this pattern would repeat itself. Hobbler had a population just over seven hundred, so there was at least that many, plus tourists, and when they left town to grocery shop… this was going to get annoying before the summer was out.

“When Ransom had finished his meal and drunk again of the strong waters of Malacandra, his host rose and entered the boat…”

The young man managed to keep his head long enough to get his laundry in the machine, but when Jennifer had to stop reading again to gather the last of the clothes from the dryers, he resumed staring dumbly again. Jennifer stuffed her duffle bag and piled everything else on a wheeled basket that probably wasn’t supposed to leave the laundromat, but she was determined to get everything out in one trip. People were going to stare, that was a given, but she wasn’t going to leave Blackbird alone with them… for reasons.... good reasons.

As Jennifer steered the mountain of clean and refreshed laundry out to the car, she frowned. Was it any of her business if people stared? Blackbird wasn’t _her_ Bitty, and he seemed to enjoy the attention.

Jennifer had only known Blackbird a little over a week. She couldn’t assume she knew what he wanted or that she had any right to… okay so she _was_ being a _little_ protective. Why? Heck knew why. She’d gone ahead and asked for new clothes without consulting him and now she was keeping him away from people outside of work? It was stupid to assume she knew anything about what was right for this guy. After all, if she’d been any good at reading people she wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. She’d lived with the same person for seven years believing she knew him and what he wanted....

On her shoulder, Blackbird grimaced. He hadn’t been sleeping with Jennifer (mostly) but Blackbird had been near her enough to pick up on the general aura of her soul. Usually it was stable, but just now he felt it begin to sour the air around them, a clear sign of a soul scar acting up. For a passing moment, Blackbird almost envied the Edgy types their reputation for biting; it seemed a perfect way to snap her from such thoughts.

“MADAM! WHY DO YOU LOITER OUTSIDE THE CAR?” Blackbird demanded. Immediately he felt the negativity leaking like miasma begin to fade.

“Sorry, lost in thought.” Jennifer muttered as she unlocked the car and started loading the back seat.

Blackbird sniffed. Whatever thoughts those were, they certainly weren’t worth getting lost in. He hoped he didn’t have to add ‘prods soul wound’ to the list of Madam’s behaviors that needed correcting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist posting again this weekend. Minor plot points and a couple clues about our two protagonists.  
As Blackbird noted, Jennifer is generally emotionally stable. For the most part, she's done her grieving over her ended relationship but these things still take time.
> 
> Author's note and quoted lines are from Out of the Silent Planet, by CS Lewis.


	13. Finally Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A comfortable weekend.

After dinner, Blackbird set to work rebuilding his nest while Jennifer folded her remaining clothes and arranged them on a shelf in the winter pantry. Her blankets were arranged in the loft to make a more comfortable sleeping mat and the sleeping bag folded and tucked beneath her pillow -which now only faintly smelled of campfire smoke beneath the fresh scent of her detergent. Jennifer took a couple bandannas and pinned them to the bookshelf above Blackbird’s shelf. The material hung down and provided the Bitty some privacy. Jennifer was rewarded with those flaring eye lights again.

Lisa was right, Blackbird was cute.

Her dark moment from the laundromat parking lot was forgotten as Jennifer surveyed the house. Books displayed on the shelves and her small collection of personal, sentimental items brightened and warmed the place just as much as the electricity.

Now, there were just two things left to clean.

Jennifer filled her largest pot with water and set it on the stove to heat, then retreated to the bathroom. Her first real shower in over a week, and it was absolute bliss. She washed her hair twice and took her time attending to all the little things she’d had to skip while cleaning herself with only a wet washcloth and dry shampoo. The house had a heating fixture that heated water as it flowed rather than requiring a tank, allowing Jennifer to stay under the spray and relish the simple joy of just getting clean for as long as she liked, which was a while. When she’d had her fill, Jennifer found herself humming as she patted dry with a fresh towel, wrapped her hair, then slipped into her fluffy robe and worn old moccasin slippers -the absolute height of luxury!

Finally feeling like a human instead of a stinky fraud, Jennifer plugged the sink and prepared a bath for Blackbird. Between the tiny house’s water heater and the water she’d left on the sink, she was able to make his bath plenty hot, though not dangerously so.

Blackbird looked her over curiously when Jennifer emerged from the bathroom smelling strongly of soap. “Alright Blackbird, your turn.” He crawled onto her offered hand and she carried him to the dish drainer where the sink was now set up much as it had been the last time.

“My uniform does not require laundering, Madam.” He informed her, not mentioning that the smell of vinegar still lingered on the leather despite his discrete efforts otherwise.

“Got it.” Jennifer surrendered easily. “Give a shout if you need anything.” He agreed and Jennifer left him to his privacy.

Blackbird undressed, setting his uniform far from the edge of the sink. He jumped down into the water. It was warmer than before. Much warmer. Though Blackbird started industriously working a washcloth over the soap, then against his bones, his movements slowed as he worked. The water was so warm he could feel it in his joints, soothing. This water also came from a nearby well, the inherent magic content far more potent than the bottled water.

And Madam had been happy, humming while preparing this bath just for him.

An hour passed. Now wearing pajamas and her hair neatly braided for the night, Jennifer tapped on the doorjamb of the bathroom. She hadn’t heard anything for a while and he hadn’t been in the water this long, last time. A ghost of her earlier doubts pulled at her for checking on him, but she pushed through it. “Blackbird? Is everything okay in there?”

An abrupt splash. “YES! EVERYTHING IS FINE IN HERE! ALL IS WELL AND NO ONE IS LAZILY NAPPING!”

Jennifer’s eyebrows went up. So long as he didn’t drown or catch cold, whatever. Still, she felt better for having checked on him.

When he was finished with his bath, Jennifer invited Blackbird up to the loft to watch a movie. She stretched out on her stomach with her pillow and sleeping bag tucked under her arms and chest for support while working on her laptop. “What kind of movies do you like?”

Blackbird didn’t, really. He hadn’t enjoyed any of the movies his previous owners watched. He didn’t understand why humans were so obsessed with explosions, cars, and mating in their films, or films that seemed to celebrate imbeciles. “I defer to Madam’s preference.” Blackbird said diplomatically.

“I prefer all my movies, that’s why I got them.” Jennifer quipped. “But what do you like to watch?”

It would be difficult for Blackbird to explain why he’d agreed to watch a movie when he didn’t like movies, so he pressed on. “I must insist, I have no preferences.”

“Hmmm, okay. Did you like the book we read at the laundromat?”

“Yes. It was quite enjoyable.” Blackbird allowed.

“Good. Then this should work.” She clicked an icon and an image that had likely been used to advertise the film came up.

Blackbird didn’t recognize the title. Resigned, he asked. “What is this about?”

“This movie is made from that same author’s most famous book.” Jennifer explained. “Do you remember much about the second World War?”

“Yes, Madam. The Allied Forces -to include your United States- defeated the Axis Powers in the nineteen forties. There is a display in room 28 but it is less straightforwardly informative.”

Jennifer listened to his response, waited for more, then frowned. “Is that all you know about the war?”

Blackbird shrugged dismissively. Jennifer tried not to cringe at what this implied. Of course, Blackbird didn’t _need_ to know about human history, but not knowing about WWII seemed extreme to her. Especially with how fast Blackbird had learned everything the museum and their readings had to offer -the Bitty was obviously smarter than her. How could he have missed WWII? “Okay, uh, early in the war the English began sending children away from cities to protect them from German bombings. That’s where this movie starts.” She expanded the player to full screen and hit Play before settling down to watch. As the screen went dark, Blackbird crawled onto Jennifer’s shoulder, lying down in a mimic of her position.

This film was not like the others he’d seen. It almost started the same as some of them with dark military planes and explosions, but soon it became a story about human children far away from home surrounded by monsters and magic. The monsters weren’t all bad, the bad ones weren’t mindless. And there were other things… Blackbird had questions. So many questions about the movie and why the humans made it that way, but they would all have to wait. Madam Jennifer was asleep before the end credits were rolling, cuddling her pillow and snoring softly.

Blackbird slid off her shoulder and closed out the programs on Jennifer’s laptop before shutting it off. He climbed down the ladder and approached the light switch. It still took more focus than it used to, but he was able to summon a bone construct. It was ridiculously small for the concentration he’d put into the summoning, but it was all he needed to strike the light switch and turn out the lights. For now, there wasn’t much he could do about the unlocked door.

Blackbird walked back toward the loft, stopping at the bottom of the ladder. He considered it then scoffed and turned to the desk, climbing up to his nest.

“Madam!” Blackbird began almost as soon as he saw Jennifer awake again. “Once again you have forgotten to properly lock the door before going to bed! You must place safety in a higher priority!”

“Morning Blackbird. Sleep well?” Jennifer snarked lightly.

“As well as can be expected when home security is not taken seriously!” Blackbird retorted. “A secured door is the least, the absolute minimum step to be taken in defending oneself!” Once again, he’d held his peace too long and today he would be heard!

Jennifer mostly grunted and made listening noises as she opened a can of peaches and divided it between two bowls of cold oat cereal. With some shelf stable milk cold from the fridge, it wasn’t a bad breakfast.

“Magic is magic. What is ‘deep magic’ supposed to mean?” Blackbird demanded.

“Hmm?” It took a moment for Jennifer to realize the safety lecture was over and Blackbird had switched subjects. “Oh, the Deep Magic.” She said.

Blackbird frowned at her. “You say the phrase much like the witch queen in the film.”

Jennifer nodded. “I grew up with the series. The Deep Magic represents the underlying order of the world, the foundation set by the creator. It’s easier to discuss if you know more about the world.” She pointed to one of the shelves. “I have the entire book series. You’re welcome to it, if you like.”

“Perhaps I will, Madam.” Blackbird agreed, biting into a chunk of peach. After indulging in his food for a while, he spoke up again. “I assume you likewise have books on the second World War?”

Jennifer nodded and swallowed her food. “I have books on all the major wars and most of the minor ones the United States participated in. I can pull the best ones out if you want. The books need to be better organized anyway.” That sounded like a good enough plan for the day. Eat, sort books, and relax.

“Yes, that would be acceptable.” Blackbird considered. “You are not just a teacher, but also a student of history?”

Jennifer had to be careful not to let her expression sour. “Not anymore. College…” is expensive, time consuming, easier with a far larger library than either she or Hobbler had to offer, and probably off the table permanently. It was pure luck she didn’t have a mountain of debt from her last two attempts. “College isn’t for me.”

Blackbird watched her for longer than Jennifer felt strictly comfortable with. When he spoke again, thankfully, it was on a different subject. “That book from the laundromat, you say it was written when humans didn’t know about monsters?”

Grateful, Jennifer nodded and pursued the new subject. “Yes, before we knew there was more than one sentient species on the planet…”

They chatted companionably throughout breakfast. Afterwards, Jennifer made good on her plans to pull some book recommendations for Blackbird. She spent the rest of the day contentedly sorting her books by subject while Blackbird read, occasionally asking questions and starting up new conversations.

It was nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last bit of 'character building' for the tiny house. Welcome home.


	14. Haute Couture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Isaac is only mildly annoying.
> 
> Don't touch the Bitty without their permission. What's wrong with you?

Monday, Isaac was waiting outside the door of the museum. When he saw Jennifer and Blackbird approaching, he held out his hands and leapt forward with an energy that belied his age. Jennifer side-stepped, preventing Isaac from snatching Blackbird off his -now usual- place on her shoulder.

Isaac pouted as he recovered from his charge and turned to look at Jennifer, apparently deeply wounded by her dodge. “I thought we had an agreement?” He asked, nearly whimpering.

“You still have to behave.” Jennifer reminded him, letting herself into the museum.

Jacob came out to check when he heard the door buzzer. He nodded at Jennifer and smirked when he saw Blackbird had avoided his brother’s overzealousness. Isaac shuffled inside, the picture of a kicked puppy. “I warned you not to get grabby.” Jacob gloated.

“I am sorry. I will behave now.” Isaac said, pressing a hand to his chest and bowing his head, both gestures too big to be taken seriously.

“You had better.” Blackbird warned.

Jacob jerked a thumb at the gift shop and Jennifer took Blackbird in so Isaac could work out of the way of any possible museum visitors.

Isaac set an array of tools on the counter. As he worked, his motions stopped overshooting and became more honest, and that honesty was professional. Sounding more like a college professor than prima donna, Isaac explained the uses of the tools and how he planned to use the calipers and thread to take Blackbird’s measurements with precision. Only once Isaac had explained everything in detail did he ask Blackbird to removing his gloves, boots and jacket. Blackbird consented.

Using the string, a couple fountain pens, and his notebook, Isaac gathered the standard measurements for arm span, inseam, width of chest and hips, and the circumference of his wrist where the radius and ulna bulged. Isaac also measured Blackbird’s skull for a hat band. Finally, with absolute care, caution, and attentive communication Jennifer and Blackbird had not previously seen from the man, he measured the area around Blackbird’s neck vertebrae as tightly as the Bitty was comfortable with.

Meanwhile, Blackbird asked a string of questions. “Why must you measure like that? What is the importance of this length? What do these notations mean?” Each question Isaac answered with the concise thoroughness of an expert.

Blackbird’s feet were traced in Isaac’s notebook and with the calipers Isaac sketched them precisely in a larger scale from different perspectives. Isaac eyed Blackbird’s hands but had to admit defeat; he had no training as a regular glover and the size required here would require extreme precision.

With several pages covered in sketches, measurements, and notes, Isaac gave Blackbird a piece of cloth -a miniature shift. “Here comes the hard part. Would you mind changing into this? We’ll take the same measurements on your excess magic.”

“Say what?” Jennifer spoke up. She’d stayed in the gift shop to keep an eye on Isaac with Blackbird much the way Jacob tended to keep an eye on Isaac with Jennifer. Any lingering self-consciousness was absent now: Isaac had already proven himself someone who needed watching. “What magic?”

Isaac glanced at Blackbird. Blackbird gestured for the man to continue, crossing his arms expectantly and waiting to see Isaac’s response. With a short nod, Isaac rose to the challenge. “Yes. Excess Magic; one of the reasons the Bitty Bones clothing market is still exclusive, despite demand.”

“Monsters are made of magic with little matter to give them form. Skeleton monsters and Bitty Bones have far less physical matter than the average monster, but the same amount of magic.” Blackbird scoffed. “Or more.” Isaac corrected himself. “This means their magic reaches past their physical skeleton and can form a kind of second body, typically invisible and frequently intangible. It does them no harm to wear something tight enough to fit against their skeletal structure, but some prefer to wear loose clothes that rest on their excess magic.” Finished, Isaac looked expectantly to the Bitty. Blackbird nodded, giving a passing grade for the impromptu lecture.

Jennifer sighed. This sounded like that ‘soul’ talk on the forums she tended to skim or skip. One of these days she was going to suck it up and figure out what that was about.

Blackbird’s tee shirt tent made a second appearance, providing him privacy while changing into the little shift. The thing was baggy and entirely unflattering -probably sewn on a larger scale than Blackbird’s size. Isaac took the previous measurements a second time. Blackbird would press the material of the shift down so Isaac could use the calipers and string. Jennifer was interested to see that the cloth did stop away from where she knew Blackbird’s bones were. Several more pages were filled with notes and sketches under Blackbird’s curious scrutiny.

Finally, when Isaac was familiar with almost every square centimeter of both Blackbird’s bodies, he left the museum abruptly while Blackbird retired to his tent to change back into his leathers.

Jennifer had just finished putting the giftshop counter back to its usual order when Isaac returned, kicking the main doors open with his usual exuberance and trilling, “To celebrate my new project and thank you both for your patience, I brought pizza!” Jennifer had to literally swallow her immediate Pavlovian response to the word ‘pizza’. Blackbird had been poking through another history book and looked up at Isaac’s entrance, but seemed disinterested in the exact nature of the tailor’s offering.

The pizzas were in unmarked cardboard boxes. Jennifer had no idea where they came from. There was no pizza place in Hobbler but they were too hot to have been delivered from another town. If Isaac was responsible for cooking these pizzas, why bother with the cardboard boxes? Pizza as shrouded in mystery as it was delicious aroma and steam. Likely, Jennifer could have asked and received answers, but _pizza._

Jacob showed up to the lunch call far sooner than usual. A fellow pizza fan, or at the least he was a fan of this pizza. They crowded in the giftshop with paper towels and bottles of fruit juice. Jennifer and Jacob soon abandoned any effort of civilized table manners -the pizza was _amazing!_ Isaac, meanwhile, watched Blackbird eat a full slice of pizza by tearing off large chunks and holding these delicately as he ate. He marveled as the Bitty conquered a slice that was easily as large or larger than Blackbird.

Isaac leaned closer to Jennifer -earning a warning growl from Jacob- and quietly asked, “Will eating like that make him gain weight?”

Jennifer lifted an eyebrow at him and swallowed a mouthful. “He’s a magical skeleton. I don’t think he’s supposed to grow anymore.”

“Yes, yes, but what about his outer body? Does it grow?”

“You just barely explained what that was to me. How should I know if his magic can get fat?” Jennifer _really_ didn’t want to discuss the likelihood of anyone getting fat when she was stuffing her own face with carbs and grease.

“Hmmm.” Isaac took out his notebook and started jotting down still more notes. Shortly after he simply wandered out of the hotel without saying goodbye to anyone. Odd. Jennifer and Jacob didn’t mind; he left the rest of the pizzas behind.

Blackbird only ate the one slice before engaging in his usual ritual of cleaning up. Jennifer noticed the lack of appetite and could only hope it wasn’t something Isaac had done or said.


	15. Isaac Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Second Incident.  
Flounce with caution, drama may be deadly.

Blackbird watched impatiently as the curator leaned down, squinting at the digital screen set in the cash register. Though Blackbird respected the curator as a professional; this was the fourth time the human had forgotten his reading glasses this week.

“Press any key to continue.” Blackbird supplied.

Jacob grunted and pressed a random key. “Thanks.”

The digital screen ran an abstract animation to show it was loading and finally popped up with the words ‘NO SALE’. The machine would work properly now, for a while. Just in time as they could hear Madam Jennifer finishing her third tour of the week. “… and as you see, we’ve returned to where we started. Thank you for visiting the Historic Hobbler Hotel and Museum. I’ll be here if you have any further questions, please consider perusing the gift shop before concluding your visit.”

There was a polite smattering of applause. Blackbird stepped away from the cash register, leaving plenty of room for Jacob to interact with customers at the counter. In a minute, tourists in cowboy hats and boots meandered through the door, looking around the shop with only mild curiosity. A reader stopped by the book display, a frequent traveler looked over the collectibles with HOBBLER MONTANA printed, painted, or stamped on them. The others were politely covering either disinterest or disappointment in the cheap commercialism…

Until they spotted Blackbird.

“Oh!”

“Wow! Is that a Bitty?” Naturally, the humans were struck with wonder at Blackbird’s magnificence, He could modestly acknowledge how truly impressive he was.

“I’ve never seen one before! Except TV and the internet, obviously.”

“He’s so cool!” Yes, Blackbird was ‘cool’. But humans enjoyed stating the obvious so there was no point in requesting otherwise.

Several smart phones and even a couple folding model cellular phones were pulled out and held up hopefully. “Can we take a picture?”

“Of course. Photography is permitted everywhere within the museum.” Blackbird said. The humans laughed at his brilliant humor and soon the phones were issuing a regular series of recorded shutter clicks.

Chatty as humans were, they began asking the same questions tour groups and visitors always asked. “What type is he?” “What does he eat? … oh. Sorry. What do you eat?” “Do you live at this museum?” This party was more polite and scholarly than some groups; asking “What’s your favorite exhibit?” rather than “What’s under your clothes?”

“I find the displays in room 38 on 1918-1920 quite fascinating, especially the photographs from the Great Influenza.”

“Cryptic.” One of the humans remarked. “I liked it, too.” He finished snapping his pictures and stepped back so a smaller woman could get a better angle for her own pictures. The speaker then looked around the shop and though he had shown no interest before, eventually stopped back at the counter with a shirt and moose snow globe. Such ‘impulse buys’ always increased while humans were waiting for their friends to get their fill of basking in Blackbird’s presence. Jacob was quietly pleased with that result.

Before long, the entire group passed through the give shop and began to leave. Time was short and other Western theme destinations called. When the number of guests in the giftshop had thinned, Madam Jennifer quietly returned. The curator gave her a ‘thumbs up’ as his customary way of congratulating her on a successful tour before they switched, Madam at the cash register and Jacob going up the stairs to work on a third-floor exhibit.

Jacob used the free time Jennifer created for him to refresh exhibits with artifacts from the full museum archive located in the City Hall basement. Keeping the archive and museum updated and catalogued was part of Jacob’s duties, but without an intern to manage guests he’d fallen years behind.

After the tourists had likewise left, Jennifer and Blackbird returned to their latest book. Since Jennifer was expected to know about the museum, reading was encouraged during lulls. “Hobbler Hauntings” gave the impression that the entire town and its surroundings was filled with spooks. Three whole chapters were dedicated to the repeatedly ill-fated “Protestant Church of Hobbler” and after reading the first book, neither Blackbird nor Jennifer were surprised to learn the thirteenth had simply been abandoned. Hobbler residents now mostly worshiped in two other local churches and the synagogue.

The hotel museum also had a chapter, but it only mentioned events that _could_ lead to a haunting. There didn’t seem to be any accounts of actual hauntings in the museum.

Blackbird was reading a typical Woman-in-White legend when the hotel’s front doors were kicked open. Jennifer and Blackbird looked up in surprise as Isaac rushed into the gift shop clutching a leather portfolio. His white hair was wildly askew, the bags beneath his bloodshot eyes were packing their own bags, his skin was pale, saggy, and sickly. The man looked _old_ and _ill_.

“Isaac?” Jennifer asked, stunned and concerned at his appearance. “What’s wrong?”

Not answering her, Isaac zeroed in on the Bitty. “Blackbird!” He cried, jubilant. Isaac brushed the display of Montana State postcards off the counter and plopped the portfolio down in its place. The portfolio was flipped open and Isaac removed two flat packages of tissue paper. “Try these on!” The portfolio was impatiently pushed aside to fall on the post cards and the packages set on the counter in front of Blackbird. All this movement keyed both Jennifer and Blackbird in to the faint stink coming from Isaac and his wrinkled clothes. His hands trembled as Isaac unwrapped the packages. “Oh, uh; please.” Isaac said offhandedly before drawing the thin paper back to reveal several items of Blackbird sized clothing. Blackbird hardly glanced at the clothes, preferring to glare at Isaac as the man continued to speak. “The hat’s not ready yet. Having trouble getting the felt to set properly.”

“Have you slept? Or eaten?” Jennifer demanded as if the jittery, half-dead answer wasn’t swaying right in front of her. Isaac didn’t acknowledge the questions.

“Madam.” Blackbird said. “Fetch the curator.”

Jennifer hesitated, looking to Blackbird. At first, Blackbird wasn’t sure why she was waiting to retrieve the idiot’s brother. Then it occurred to him that she was worried about _Blackbird._ Patently absurd. Even with his magic still subpar and _slightly_ further depleted after doing his share of the house cleaning, he was still more than capable of defending himself against the buffoon. He snorted at her concern and waved her away, “The tailor poses no threat to me. Fetch his brother, quickly.”

Madam nodded, already hitching her skirts as she rushed from the room.

“Will you try them on?” Isaac seemed oblivious to any other topic.

Blackbird set his hand on his hips and glared up at the tailor. “Human! This brand of foolishness is beyond unacceptable!” Isaac tilted his head like a sad, confused hound. “The level of neglect you have inflicted upon yourself is shameful for any sort of professional and has likely done any kind of damage to your reputation in this town! What were you thinking? Were my brother to have behaved with this level of idiocy I would be forced to beat him! As you are not my brother, I am forced to leave you to the curator. I can only hope he’ll deal with you accordingly.”

Isaac’s brow furrowed. Deep wrinkles in his sallow skin seemed to multiply infinitely. “You won’t try them on?” There was no getting through to the man. This human had abused himself stupid.

Taking a deep breath, Blackbird forced himself to speak in a calm manner. “I will change after your brother arrives to manage you.” He bargained.

Isaac’s frown and its legion of accompanying wrinkles deepened further though it was clear that whatever was going through his head wasn’t surviving the journey. “My brother, Jacob. What about Jacob?”

“Madam Jennifer is retrieving your brother. I will change into the clothes you have brought, after your brother arrives.” Speak slowly and calmly.

Isaac mulled over these words best he could, then stood taller and seemed to brighten. “You’ll wear the clothes!” He concluded.

“When your brother, Jacob, gets here.” Blackbird repeated, yet again.

“Speak of the devil and I shall appear.” Jacob announced as he marched into the room, then bellowed as soon as he saw Isaac. “**_What the devil?!_** What happened?” He spotted the clothing arrayed beside Blackbird and pieced the situation together rapidly. “_Dammit Zac!_ You’re not a kid anymore! You can’t pull stunts like this at our age and be okay!”

Isaac pointed at Jacob, his attention never really leaving Blackbird. “He’s here. Will you wear the clothes?”

“I will wear the clothes.” Blackbird assured him, speaking slowly as though to a small, lobotomized child. “Now sit before you fall, or dust outright.”

“But…” The sad hound dog look was back, though Blackbird had no idea why. Isaac didn’t seem to know, either.

“You have to leave so he can change.” Madam Jennifer followed her employer into the room, then began gently herding the idiot out of the gift shop. “Privacy, remember? Let’s go sit on the stairs.” She didn’t bother suggesting they resurrect the T-shirt tent.

“Oh.” Isaac brightened again and allowed himself to be guided out, his brother on his heels. Madam Jennifer paused at the door, looking back to check on Blackbird. He sighed and pinched his nasal bones, irritably waving Madam on her way and turning to regard the clothing.

Before she closed the door, Blackbird could hear the curator questioning the idiot. “Did you get any sleep since Monday?”

A prideful sniff. “Of course. I had a good night’s sleep, eight solid hours!”

Growling. “Zac, it’s Friday.”

“I know tha-… oh… oops.”

Blackbird shook his skull as the door was pulled closed and the humans’ voices dulled. He lifted one of the shirts and looked it over carefully. The material was good. White, but not that unnatural bright white humans put into so many of their clothes. That was good. Monsters of Blackbird’s high standards naturally disliked such frivolities… and not just because it made their magic tingle unpleasantly. Unlike cheap clothes manufactured for monsters Blackbird’s size, the seams on this shirt lay flat and he could feel the idiot’s intent in the stitching. Despite the tailor’s mania, the intent set in the work was subdued, the mark of a professional.

Blackbird removed his uniform and changed into the clothing. It was cut to fit his bones rather than his magic, which was his preference. Not that his second body was anything less than a prime figure of fitness. At first, Blackbird was loathe to admit how well the idiot made the clothes, but he reminded himself it wasn’t just the idiot; Madam had commissioned these clothes for him. The clean white shirts with the appropriately sized buttons, sturdy grey trousers, crisply woven suspenders, stiff new leather boots; these were from his human.

Satisfied with that line of reasoning, Blackbird finished dressing. He was straightening the waistcoat when he called for Madam.

The door opened a few inches. “You okay in there?” Madam Jennifer asked, considerately avoiding looking in should he not be prepared.

“Yes. I have finished changing.” Blackbird informed her.

Madam Jennifer leaned in and looked him over. Blackbird waited, refusing to try and interpret her expression as she paused, eyebrows lifting in surprise. Taking a breath, she whistled softly. “Wow, Blackbird. Looking good. Real good.”

Blackbird inclined his skull at the compliment. Before he could assure her that he knew as much for himself, even without the aid of a mirror, Madam was knocked roughly aside as the idiot shoved into the room. “I knew it! Absolutely perfect! I need pictures!”

His words were irrelevant. Blackbird’s magic surged impotently as Madam stumbled. There was nothing he could do as he watched the material of her skirt yank tight and the fear swell as she began to fall.


	16. The Second Incident

Jennifer whistled, thoroughly impressed.

In a grey suit with striking red tie, Blackbird was the very -miniature- picture of Death in the late 19th century West. The clothes would have been common for a merchant or -with a little more wear and tear- a foreman or other overseer of labor. Blackbird wore the period clothing with his usual stance of prideful arrogance, but somehow the clothing and his attitude worked off each other. The crack through his socket made his usual leathers feel like a costume or affectation, but that impression was gone with the historic clothes. Clothing from an era of frontier battles following a brutal civil war coupled with a long-healed wound made his boastful posturing appear less bravado and more assured confidence. “Wow, Blackbird. Looking good. Real good.”

Blackbird inclined his head at the compliment but before he could begin boasting or turn that cute shade of blue-purple, Isaac was there. The man half-shoved, half bumped Jennifer out of the way in his rush to see the clothes modeled.

Jennifer stumbled. The second step snagged her overskirt. The gown’s bodice dragged down over Jennifer’s entire torso as if with intent to murder. All that downward force was _terrifying_. She was still stumbling, dragging petticoats under her feet and increasing the pull. Seams cut into her shoulders. The collar pulled back against her throat preventing her from yelping. She couldn’t even throw her arms out as the homicidal gown clamped down at the shoulders.

By chance Jennifer managed to snag a corner of the display bookcase with one hand. The bookcase’s wood snapped and cracked. It wasn’t sturdy and barely held enough to keep her head up as she fell. Most of the books in the case followed Jennifer to the floor and her in a series of thumps. The fall was complete, but the collar at her throat was still too tight. Panic prickled under her skin as she struggled to breath.

Either his brother’s behavior or the bookcase cracking brought Jacob rushing into the gift shop. He saw Jennifer and immediately lifted her by the waist, holding her aloft and allowing her to kick her feet free of the dress. Once the skirts were out of the way, Jacob carefully set Jennifer back on her feet, clear of the fallen books. Jennifer seized the front of the gown and yanked her collar forward, coughing as the pressure let up.

Points of red light sparked in the air around the Bitty. “HUMAN! YOU WILL APOLOGIZE TO MADAM JENNIFER _IMMEDIATELY_!” Blackbird barked.

Isaac flinched at the Bitty’s tone. He glanced at Jennifer, still coughing and trying to tug her costume straight with one hand clutching Jacob’s arm for support. “Oh. Oh.” He cringed. “I am so sorry. That was entirely inappropriate. Are you hurt?”

“You need sleep.” Jennifer snapped, not answering the question. Reluctantly, she released her boss’s arm and stood on her own.

“But…”

“**_Isaac Walton Patterns…_**” The floors fairly shook for Jacob’s growling.

“I… yes.” The fog Isaac had been in was finally pierced. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked stiffly. The hang dog expression fell away as the old man forced himself to focus. “You’re absolutely right. That was incredibly irresponsible of me…” His brow furrowed. “I’m in no condition to take pictures….” He blinked again and frowned deeply when he noticed the mess behind Jennifer. Books and cheap plastic trinkets were spread across the floor and the bookcase was now lopsided, likely broken. He then looked at Jennifer again, his eyes widened. The man still didn’t fully understand what had happened, but it was dawning on him. “My priorities are entirely fucked, aren’t they?”

Jacob and Blackbird grunted their agreement.

Isaac blinked a few more times before turning to Jacob and confessing, “I think I drove here. I shouldn’t drive home.”

Jacob grimaced, but his voice was resigned as he said, “Zac, you idiot.”

“Yes.” Isaac agreed. He looked back to Blackbird. “Keep the clothes. Consider them a gift. I’m very sorry for my unprofessional behavior, it won’t happen again.”

Blackbird didn’t say anything, only crossed his arms and waited.

Turning to Jennifer, Isaac repeated. “I’m terribly sorry. I hope you can forgive my rudeness and carelessness.” He reached for Jennifer’s hand. She pulled away before he touched her. Isaac paused for a moment, processing the action. He nodded and walked unsteadily from the gift shop.

Jacob rumbled in displeasure before turning back to Jennifer. “Are you hurt? Anywhere, don’t take anything lightly.”

Jennifer glanced down at herself, inspecting the gown. None of the seams had torn, but there were several rips and tears where the material had given out. One tear circled nearly a fifth of the gown from the hip to her back and the sleeve of the arm she’d grabbed the bookcase with had nearly torn free. Beneath the dress, pain was beginning to make itself known. The corset had protected much of her torso and hips from damage, but her shoulders were raw and there was a suspicious wetness beneath the shoulder of the arm the sleeve was nearly torn from. The palm on that hand tingled sharply, and likewise felt suspiciously wet. “I’m good.” Jennifer lied. “No harm done.”

Jacob glared at her, but there was no heat to it. “This matter isn’t over. We will talk Monday, but I have to take my brother home and see him to bed. Can you close up?”

Jennifer nodded. Jacob huffed unhappily and gave her a regretful look before he followed his brother out of the museum.

“Madam! Are you truly unhurt?” Blackbird demanded.

“I’m fine.” Jennifer insisted habitually. Casually, she slid her other hand between the folds of her skirt, clenching it and feeling the skin pull painfully along her palm. Thick wetness definitely greeted at least one fingertip, burning her palm further.

Blackbird gave her a searching look, his skeleton grin tight somehow. Jennifer ignored his stare and set to work righting the store as much as possible. Eventually Blackbird was forced to let it go. He began folding and piling the clothes he wasn’t wearing, then wrapping them in the tissue paper.

After they’d been working in silence for several minutes, Blackbird spoke again. “Madam, the human Isaac.” He said. “He is of advanced age, is he not?”

Jennifer gave the bookcase a shove back into position… it still sagged. The wood was definitely broken under the fake plastic finish. “Yes. Isaac and Jacob are older humans.”

Blackbird stood and stomped a foot. “THEN THE TAILOR SHOULD KNOW BETTER THAN TO BEHAVE IN SUCH A MANNER!” His old volume back in play, the Bitty vented his mighty wrath. “IT IS UTTER FOOLISHNESS TO BRING ONESELF TO SUCH A POOR STATE OF HEALTH FOR A CRAFT WHICH COULD EASILY HAVE WAITED FOR A PROPER REST!”

Jennifer only nodded in reply to the ranting. She gave the bookcase another shove and after patting the books into place the case almost looked okay, but it was obviously just a temporary fix. They couldn’t let a guest pull too many books from the shelves or the whole thing would fall over.

“AND THEN TO HAVE GONE OUT INTO PUBLIC, ENDANGERING THOSE AROUND HIM! HE WILL DRIVE HIS BROTHER TO AN EARLY DUST!” Blackbird continued.

Finished with the books, Jennifer started collecting the useless doodads that had also fallen. A couple were crushed. Jacob had likely stepped on them while rescuing her. His rapid response and Blackbird’s temper might have been warming, if Jennifer wasn’t so frightened and startled at the time. She felt a tremor starting in her spine at the thought and shook her head, warding it off. “Jacob did seem upset.” Jennifer agreed with Blackbird.

“NATURALLY!” Blackbird insisted. He huffed and turned back to his task. “WOULD YOU NOT FEEL THE SAME IF YOU HAD A BROTHER?”

Jennifer hummed thoughtfully. “I do have a brother. He worries me sometimes doing stupid stuff, but he means well.”

Did Isaac mean well? Surely he didn’t mean ill, but his actions were certainly… neither careless nor selfish really seemed to fit. Did he mean well under all that?

Blackbird stopped wrapping his leathers and looked at Jessica with surprise. “I was not aware. You do not speak with your brother on the phone.”

“No. We usually don’t talk. Mom and Dad tell me what he’s up to, but we don’t talk much.” For all her stubbornness in refusing to ask for help and knowing that if she were closer they might force help on her, Jennifer did miss her family. She shook her head again. “It’s normal for human families to spread as they become adults.” The words felt like weights dropping from her tongue.

Blackbird mulled this over, then looked at Jennifer sharply. “Perhaps they shouldn’t.” He said. Though his indoor voice had returned, he still sounded affronted.

“Maybe you’re right.” Jennifer agreed. The shift under her gown brushed the abused skin. The sting was almost familiar, reminding her of bike crashes and bathroom first aid. A bang of loneliness went through her and she focused again on cleaning up and setting things in the shop to rights.

Somehow, thinking of her own little brother made Jennifer reflect on the way Jacob had said ‘Zac’ today. It made her stomach heavy, but she ignored that, too.


	17. Payday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday night, just got paid...  
In which retail therapy doesn't work that way.

On Jennifer’s shoulder, Blackbird was physically close enough to feel her soul churning with emotion, but they weren’t close enough in other respects for him to determine more than that. The fact didn’t make him bitter. Not at all.

Outwardly, however, Jennifer appeared calm as she pushed the shopping cart through the supermarket, pointedly ignoring all the employees and customers staring at Blackbird, who was all the more attention grabbing in his new finery.

The miracles of running water and electricity caused their potential menu to explode with possibility. No more food that might not actually be food. Fresh foods like real butter and foods that needed a lot of water like dry beans or pastas were now available to her. She was still careful to stretch each dollar with utter care, but now she could think more on how healthy the food was… or might be. The forums universally agreed that nobody was _sure_ what counted as healthy for a Bitty.

After going over her pre-planned meals and working the prices on her phone’s calculator, Jennifer saw room still in the food budget. She could maybe get something a little special. “Hey, Blackbird?”

“Yes, Madam?” As usual when Blackbird spoke in public, somebody who had managed to control themselves before would react with shock. This time, a young mother with a baby strapped to her front dropped a bag of peas, then began puzzling how to retrieve them.

Jennifer left her cart, still addressing Blackbird. “What do you like to eat?” She put up her good hand for Blackbird to brace himself while she crouched and retrieved the peas for the distressed mother.

Blackbird held tight when Jennifer shifted forward, pressing his new shoes against her offered hand when she leaned forward. “I am perfectly capable of eating the same foods as yourself. You know this.” He scoffed.

“I know.” Jennifer rolled her eyes. She returned the peas. The mother quickly thanked her and hurried off, too embarrassed to look at Blackbird again. Jennifer pressed the subject. “But what do you _like_? What’s your favorite food? I might be able to get it.” If it wasn’t too expensive. If this four-inch king-of-the-world said Lobster and Chardonnay she might pick up fish sticks and apple juice.

“Eh...” Blackbird said. “Ah…”

Eh?

Blackbird had held his metaphorical tongue before, but had Jennifer ever had him at a loss for words? Why was that question so strange?

Blackbird straightened still further on Jennifer’s shoulder, chin high and staring regally ahead. “Do not concern yourself, Madam. I have no preference. Your cooking is sufficient.” Blackbird dismissed the subject from her shoulder.

Jennifer pushed the cart down another aisle at a meandering pace, thinking.

_I have no preference_. He’d said the same thing about films, then initiated lengthy discussions and eagerly read the books of that first film. They’d watched others since, and he seemed to enjoy them, but not with the same enthusiasm. As for food, Blackbird clearly preferred the veggies and pork chops Jennifer cooked over the pizza Isaac made. Jennifer began to suspect that -somehow- the little guy just didn’t know what his favorites were, yet. What had her old neighbors been feeding him?

Jennifer was just going to have to try new things and see what worked. She snagged a bottle of curry sauce with that intent.

After the supermarket, Jennifer drove to a Home Furnishings store she’d researched. The greeter smiled, then stiffened when they saw the Bitty. Jennifer could only take so much of the question “Is that a Bitty?” so she hurried past the greeter before they could recover. She found Customer Service and waited in line until an employee was available.

The woman behind the counter smiled professionally and -like the greeter- stiffened when she saw Blackbird, but otherwise was able to control herself. “How can I help you today?” Her eyes stuck to Blackbird though she addressed Jennifer.

Jennifer used her phone to pull up an advertisement from the store’s website. “I was wondering about this mattress sale. Are there any more available?”

The teller tore her eyes from Blackbird to look at the phone. “Ah, yes. I’ll ring somebody up to help you.” She pressed two buttons on the desk phone, lifted and spoke into the receiver, “Furniture and Bedding assistant to Customer Care. Furniture and Bedding assistant to Customer Care.” A moment later her voice page echoed through the store. “_Furniture and Bedding assistant to Customer Care…_”

“It’ll be just a minute.” The woman assured them. She succeeded in smiling at Jennifer, though her eyes still flicked curiously over to Blackbird. Jennifer stepped aside so the teller was available to the next customer. The prickly feeling of eyes following her only got worse when she turned and saw exactly how many people were staring at Blackbird: almost everyone in sight.

Self-conscious, paranoid, and increasingly irritated, it was a wonder Blackbird hadn’t said anything about the rock tension humming in her shoulders. Her store of patience for the day had been used up, but she was still in control. Inhaling slowly, Jennifer consciously reminded herself that one; they weren’t staring at her, and two; she wasn’t shy so it wouldn’t matter if they were. She forced herself to ignore the people around her and straightened to look for any vested employees heading for the Customer Service desk. The irritation and paranoia didn’t vanish or lessen but it was more manageable when firmly scolded into place.

Lots of feelings could be scolded into place. It was eminently useful.

They waited for several minutes, Blackbird’s finger tapping impatiently on Jennifer’s shoulder -too small to feel. The woman behind the counter paged for assistance again without being asked. Finally, a woman in the store’s signature vest scurried toward them, owlishly gaping at Blackbird the moment she saw him.

“Hi, I need a mattress.” Jennifer explained, pulling her phone out again.

“Mattresses in bedding.” The woman said, not looking away from Blackbird.

Patience long gone, self-control slipping, Jennifer snapped her fingers to draw the woman’s attention to her phone and the advertisement. “I’m looking for one of these mattresses. Do you still have any in stock?”

The employee looked at the phone. “Oh, those are on sale.” She said, returning her attention to Blackbird.

“Can you show me where?” Jennifer asked, teeth gritting.

Still gaping, she replied, “Bedding.”

“OBVIOUSLY!” Blackbird snapped. The woman’s eyes bugged and at least one of the people in line jumped when the Bitty spoke. “Human! Pay attention to your customer!” He waved a hand toward Jennifer’s jaw. “If you cannot properly assist Madam, retrieve an employee who is capable!”

The woman flushed, then pursed her lips at the indignity. She looked peevishly away from the Bitty and at last gave Jennifer her full attention, as if that wasn’t what she was supposed to be doing from the start. “What do you need?”

“A mattress. I would like a mattress from this sale.” Jennifer said, deciding small words might be in order.

“Follow me.” The woman sniffed, turning and striding away without another word. She tried to express her displeasure with an imperious tone and stride, but her attempts fell far short of what Blackbird exhibited by natural habit. Unimpressed, Jennifer followed toward the back of the store where several beds were displayed with various patterned comforter and sham sets, corners pulled back to give customers a view of the mattress labels and brands. The woman approached a man replacing pillows knocked off one of the displays. The man looked up as they approached.

“Martin, this lady needs help.” The woman said and left; flipping her hair over her shoulder as she went.

Jennifer’s brain shorted. She spent _months_ sending out resumes and applications for jobs at every place she could reach without luck. The only response she’d gotten had been halfway across the country. To think people like this filled those jobs she’d been so desperate for…

Martin gave the pillow he was settling another pat. “I’m very sorry about that, Ma’am. Were you the one the page was for?”

“Hmm?” Jennifer.exe was still rebooting. Disabling Righteous Anger. Restarting Social Interaction. Reconfiguring Self-Control.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?” Jennifer asked, not remembering the question. Train of Thought 65% defragged.

“Yes! Madam Jennifer called for assistance and was not heeded in a sufficiently punctual manner! And,” Blackbird flicked his wrist in the direction the other employee had disappeared in, “that human employee was entirely unsuitable.”

Martin looked apologetically from Jennifer to Blackbird. “I’m very sorry about that, sir.” Blackbird twitched in surprise. “I’ll have the manager speak with her… sternly. What can I help you two with?” He looked between Jennifer and Blackbird as if they were simply two customers standing unusually close.

Jennifer recalled her goal enough to show him the advertisement on her phone. “I’m looking for one of these, please.” She held the phone so he could see it.

He carefully looked as Jennifer held the phone steady, then she tapped the screen to prevent it from going black. Martin cheered a bit when he saw both hands. “Oh, yes. Those are all in the back. What size were you wanting?”

“Twin.”

The sales assistant gave a thoughtful nod. “We’ve got that.” He said. “If you’ll wait here just a few minutes, I’ll go get one for you. Oh, the name’s Martin -by the way. In case you need me.”

“Yes, thank you.” Jennifer said. Martin made an odd snap-clap gesture before hurrying to the back room.

Jennifer settled on the nearest display bed and Blackbird hopped down from her shoulder. “Nice to meet someone who knows their job.” Jennifer noted, feeling a little a little calmer now that her brain had completed its reboot diagnostics. It helped some to think of people like that Martin filling the positions she’d applied for.

“Certainly.” Blackbird agreed, navigating the comforter to the exposed corner of the mattress. “That human appears to be a very competent employee. Well-mannered.” He read the label before deciding he wasn’t interested in such things and retraced his steps to where Jennifer waited. Without being asked she offered a hand and lifted the Bitty back up to his preferred spot on her shoulder, causing a man passing by with a cart to gape and run into a display. Blackbird snorted but both he and Jennifer looked away and pretended not to have noticed the man’s mistake as he straightened several furniture catalogs before hurrying away in shame.

Once she was out of earshot, Jennifer managed an amused huff.

“I’m afraid my presence is too much for some.” Blackbird mused in a tone that was neither rueful nor ashamed of causing the incident.

“Blackbird, you’re more hazardous than a miniskirt at a construction site.” Jennifer accused.

“I choose to accept that as a compliment.” Blackbird preened.

“As you should.” Jennifer assured him. Preening intensified. The Bitty’s pleasure at the attention being so obvious made it easier for Jennifer to bear the weight of all that staring. So long as somebody was enjoying themselves.

The sales assistant soon returned -hair freshly combed and shirt tucked neatly- carrying the mattress with a commendable amount of skill. He rested the mattress against one of the displays and Jennifer checked it was the one she wanted. “This is just the thing, thank you.”

Martin smiled warmly. “You’re welcome. We’ll take this up front and when you’re finished, someone will load it for you.” He waved and a pimply faced kid hurried from the back room to collect the mattress, looking hard at Jennifer to memorize her face.

“That’s great. Thank you.” Jennifer said, again glad to see someone actually paying attention to their job.

“Not a problem… really. Is there anything else you need?” Martin held out a hand, turning up the charm. Though he didn’t breach it, he was definitely hinting past the strict line of professionalism.

“Actually, yes.” Jennifer flicked to another screen on her phone. “Your store also carries Gerson pillows?”

He was surprised but not displeased. “Wow, we just got those in! I stocked them this morning. Over here.” Jennifer followed as he guided her to a shelving area stuffed with several different brands and types of pillows. Martin pulled one out of a wire chute holding tan pillows rather than the usual bleached white or pale blue covers. This pillow came in a stiff paper sleeve printed with the same wrinkled turtle monster head as the one in Jennifer’s advertisement. It was smaller than standard commercial pillows and kidney shaped rather than rectangular. When Jennifer took the pillow from Martin she found it much heavier than expected, but insanely soft to the touch. Curious, Jennifer sniffed the pillow. Mild and sweet, both floral and woodsy. Definitely not poly-fill.

“What do you think, Blackbird?”

“Madam?”

“Will this work for you?” The pillow type was new, but there were already a lot of conversation threads about it on the rescue Bitty chats. Magic-organic flower petals and waterfall grass or something like that; supposed to be good for monsters of all kinds as well as humans. The price wasn’t _too_ much higher than usual, certainly less than brand name or even generic Bitty Beds.

Blackbird stood, eyeing the pillow with keen interest. “I will inspect the product.” Jennifer held the pillow flat on her hands and Blackbird leapt from her shoulder onto the pillow. It hardly dimpled under his weight. Though Blackbird tried to retain his usual calm, his eye sockets widened as the scent hit him. He still made a show of inspecting the material the cover was made from and bouncing once (and only once!) to test the resistance, but it was clear his decision was made from the start.

The Bitty stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind his back. “This will make a tolerable bed.” Blackbird pronounced -so it was written, so let it be done. Once he’d finished the inspection of his new mattress, Blackbird climbed Jennifer’s sleeve to regain his post upon her shoulder. He returned to his usual manner of watching imperiously ahead. The sales associate was confused by the Bitty’s apparent indifference, but Jennifer was confident she recognized the signs of a thoroughly delighted Blackbird: his skull was shading purple and his blue eye lights had flared distractingly bright.

She took a second pillow and tucked them under one arm. “Looks like that’s just about everything.” Jennifer turned to Martin and offered him her hand. “Thank you, really.”

He took her hand. “Happy to be of help. And if there’s anything else I can get you… anything…” Martin’s offer bordered on suggestive, his expression a respectable attempt at smoldering charm.

Jennifer released his hand after a single, perfunctory shake. Oblivious. “I’m good, got everything I need. Thanks again.”

As Jennifer left, Blackbird glanced back at the clearly disappointed sales associate. A pity. He seemed a decent human, but Madam was neither interested nor ready.


	18. Evening Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they're not friends yet.

It began raining as they returned to the tiny house. Jennifer hurried to bring the shopping in before starting dinner, leaving the front door cracked to let the rain scrubbed air inside. Blackbird enjoyed the curry, but not enough for a ‘favorite’. Try, try again.

Dinner cleared, Jennifer retrieved a set of sheets and her sewing kit. The sheets were her last set from before her <strike>failed</strike> marriage -washed but never used. Sitting on the bench, Jennifer flipped a pillowcase inside-out and slid one of the new pillows inside. She pinned and marked the material, removed the pillow, and set to work cutting away the excess and sewing new seams as necessary.

Though he could have entertained himself with a book, self-appointed chores, or borrowed the phone to watch a video or surf the internet, Blackbird sat on the edge of the desk and watched Madam work with intense curiosity. She was no expert, he could see her stitches weren’t very regular and she spent a good deal of time with one finger or another in her mouth to stem bleeding and ease pain. She had an amusing habit of cursing viciously and silently when undoing tangled threads. When the first was finished, Jennifer used it as a pattern for the second pillowcase and before long she was stitching buttons to finish the alterations.

The two new pillows were tucked into their cases and buttoned in. “Done!” Jennifer announced. Blackbird perked as Jennifer stood. “Okay Blackbird, where do you want it?”

Blackbird jumped to his shelf -always an impressive feat to watch- and indicated the portion nearest to the loft. Jennifer was surprised it wasn’t the part of the shelf with the improvised privacy curtains, but she set the <strike>pillow</strike> _bed_ where he wanted. They added a particularly soft blanket Blackbird selected to wrap around the _bed_ and act as both pillow and comforter for the Bitty. Looking over the new set-up, Blackbird’s eye lights flared bright and his skull just barely dusted blue. Jennifer smiled. Mission accomplished and stuff.

The rest of his old bedding was dumped into the ‘laundry duffle’ to be washed and used for its actual purpose; clothing. Though, Jennifer had a nagging thought that it might be awkward wearing the things knowing he’d been sleeping in them.

Jennifer made her own bed, finishing it with her own new pillow. Next, she collected her bathroom things from the winter pantry, slipping her cell phone in between a change of clothes and her towel so Blackbird wouldn’t see nor question her taking it into the bathroom for her usual evening shower.

Door firmly closed behind her, Jennifer set her things on the little sink shelf, then glanced hesitantly at the mirror over the sink. She gave the door another self-conscious glance before pulling her shirt off to get a better look in the mirror.

Just below where the collar of her polo shirt stopped, the skin of her throat was still chaffed red. There was a suggestion of darkness beneath the red. Her shoulders past her bra straps were raw, one arm had flecks of dried yellow and on the other smeared brown was flaking off over angry red welts. A little petulant, she waved at her reflection, bringing the small red scrapes and brown scabbing on that palm up near the other marks.

Jennifer shook her head, dismissing her reflection to sit on the toilet lid. It would look better after a shower, after all.

Retrieving her phone from the pile, Jennifer paid her phone bill and set calendar reminders for other bills. She itched to sit down and write out a couple budget plans, but that really depended on how her talk with Jacob would go Monday. Finally, Jennifer pulled up her bank app, entered her password, and stared at the total available funds.

Just under five hundred dollars, more than half of it designated for future expenses. She had a job, a house, her car, food in the pantry, and money left to save. What she felt looking at that number was neither relief nor anxiety. She didn’t feel happy, sad, or mad. She just felt, and she felt a lot.

Jennifer pressed her phone to her forehead and -very carefully and very quietly- cried.

Madam had left his packages on his shelf. Blackbird unwrapped them, smoothed the tissue paper, and refolded it into a box proportionate to his respectable stature as the storage trunks on display at the museum were to humans. Returning to the clothes, Blackbird separated his old uniform into one bundle and set it aside, then folded the rest of the new clothes and arranged them inside the paper trunk in a logical manner. He was focused on this when Madam entered the bathroom for her evening rituals. Another glance confirmed that -yes, as usual- she had failed to lock the front door before taking her shower and even left it cracked. Blackbird was certain human women should lock their doors when showering just as when they slept, but today Madam’s woefully negligent attitude toward her own safety suited his purposes.

Just today, however. This behavior was _not_ going to be permitted to continue unchallenged.

Once the new clothes were properly stored, Blackbird hesitated. He allowed a frivolous moment to run his phalanges over his new bed, feeling much more than cotton.

The blanket chosen for his bedding was a handmade quilt: small by human standards, warm enough even for a non-skeleton monster, and well-worn to that softness which surpassed luxury. The seams and embroidery -though a few decades old- still bound someone’s positive, affectionate intent within each stitch. It was a different intent than that which held his custom sheet together. Madam’s feelings weren’t as focused. This was understandable, she’d certainly had a day and -again- they weren’t very close in some respects. However, each thread still carried traces of that very human Determination. Madam meant to do right by him.

Blackbird’s clothing also held intent, but it was the mark of a professional -despite his mania- that the tailor’s focus was subdued and fading. Contrarywise, the quilt and sheets fairly hummed with positive intent; the quilt with love and the sheets with strength.

It made for a satisfactory bed. A very satisfactory bed.

Blackbird glanced toward the bathroom again. The water wasn’t running yet, so he surely had enough time. He gathered the bundle of his uniform leathers and left his quarters. The drop from the shelf to the desk was easy enough without risking injury, but he took precautions when dropping from the desk to the floor -his magic was better suited for preventing injury than healing.

Blackbird carried his leathers out the front door into the cool, wet night air. He dropped them over the edge of the porch before hopping down himself, not bothering to wipe mud or rain water from the bundle when he picked it up. The plants in the clearing were typically several times taller than Blackbird, but they shortened and thinned out under the porch, dying off completely in the crawlspace beneath the house. There, only dry dust and dirt remained, along with several animal holes that would require attention as the spring turned to summer.

Selecting a burrow he was pretty sure housed a large mouse or small rat during daylight hours, Blackbird shoved his leathers as far as he could reach down the hole, pushing them with his foot to ensure a good pack. He stepped back and took several deep breaths, drawing on ambient magic to help manifest a set of red bones, each about half Blackbird’s height. With a slash of Blackbird’s hand, the bones raked through the dirt, caving in the entrance to the animal den.

There. A task easily accomplished by the maleficent Blackbird.

He would tend to the other animal nests at another time. The job was done… there was no reason to stand there staring at the disturbed and sunken dirt as if he’d buried something other than the frivolities of fools, nor panting and blinking as if the action had somehow pained him. No. Of course not. There was nothing… nothing that hadn’t already been stolen.

Blackbird meticulously brushed the dust from his new clothes, taking a moment to scrub his carpals against the edges of his sockets _only_ because it was dusty down there. After regaining control of his breathing, Blackbird turned and left the crawlspace. He climbed the stairs back to the porch and paused outside the front door. The lunatic tailor had even included appropriately sized handkerchiefs, one of which Blackbird now used to dry the rain from his skull and wipe clean his new boots before crossing the threshold.

Madam was finally starting the water for her shower. Blackbird didn’t know why it had taken so long but… humans and bathrooms. It simply was better to not know.

The rest of the evening went quietly. After her shower, Madam invited Blackbird to watch another movie. The film was in shades of grey. No one spoke though signs with words sometimes came on screen. The story and characters were absurd… but not without merit.

Madam managed to stay awake long enough to shut off the laptop, and lights.

She had to be reminded -_again_\- to lock the door before going to sleep.

Blackbird retired to his own quarters to read. His current book was an eye-witness account of a ship sinking more than a hundred years prior. He wasn’t sure why this event was important, but it was interesting.

Blackbird finished the chapter and decided it was time to make his rounds before bed. He walked the perimeter of the tiny house, checked that the windows were not leaking, the sink not dripping. The stove burners were off, the door secured (for a change). No sign of pests in the house or impending danger. He checked the window in the loft last. Also secured. No damp or drafts coming through the frame. Filthy as the house had once been, at least it appeared to have been built well.

Blackbird hopped down from the window and looked at Madam. She was sleeping comfortably, head nestled on the Gerson pillow. The pillows emitted a passive magic that would surely do them both good, but he believed Madam was unaware. Humans tended to be oblivious to just how much magic went on around them.

Madam rolled over on her side, grimaced, and settled onto her back before relaxing into a deeper sleep. The move brought one of her hands out from under the covers. The palm appeared dirty, which made no sense as she’d done nothing since her shower but watch the film. She wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, missed something so obvious. Blackbird ventured across the mattress for a closer look.


	19. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monday after the Second Incident.

Jacob looked his intern over carefully. “You look… very good this morning.” He said, using the cautious tone of an older man still unsure where the line between simple compliments and outraged young ladies might lie.

Jennifer accepted the compliment with a smile. “New mattress and pillow. I finally caught up on my beauty sleep!”

Jacob relaxed. “It’s working.” He said with the same approving thumbs up he gave when Jennifer finished a tour. To Blackbird, Jacob asked. “Did you get a new bed, too?”

Blackbird sniffed. “Of course. Curator, you’ve seen how capable Madam is in this museum. That same competence carries into her attention to my requirements.” He gave Jennifer’s shoulder a proprietary pat.

“I believe it.” Jacob agreed readily. Between Blackbird and her boss’s affirmations, Jennifer felt her face warming. Jacob took a breath and clapped his hands together, refocusing to the more serious and inevitable subject. “Okay, we should talk. Now.”

Jennifer grimaced, tucking a hand in her pocket in a way she hoped was casual. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Isaac did.”

“And Isaac is my brother.” Jacob reminded her seriously. “My _little_ brother, regardless of how old we get. He could have seriously hurt you. I’d be…” He grimaced and glanced away, then cleared his throat and tried again. “I’d feel responsible if that had happened. I feel responsible for what you’ve had to put up with already. It’s part of my job to ensure you have a safe work environment and I’ve failed that job twice.”

Jennifer was torn. She wanted to shake her head, deny, something to encourage him but the fact of the matter was; he was right. Jennifer was just a temp. Her job was meant for college students, including teenagers without the experience to defend themselves from a much older and more senior person. Jacob knew this. Either of them brushing off Isaac’s actions would help no one, especially not Isaac.

She crossed her arms. “Then what needs to be done? I can’t just avoid Isaac and his reckless behavior needs to be checked.” Even disregarding the commission she’d asked of the man, the destroyed gown needed to be replaced.

Jacob inhaled. “He’s employed by the state. You can file a formal complaint. It will go into his records and can lead to an investigation, fines, dismissal, or even,” His voice shook between words, a small hitch that he pushed through as if it hadn’t happened and Jennifer almost missed. “Criminal charges if necessary. Of course, I’ll write up and sign a supporting statement, and make sure everything is filed correctly.”

Jennifer took his words and weighed them. Despite the momentary shake, his tone was firm. If Jacob said he would do it, it would be done and neither raging storm nor war would prevent him. Take his words to the bank and they were good credit across hostile international borders.

“I’ll do that,” Jennifer began. Jacob nodded, eyes and shoulders hardening with resolve, but Jennifer hadn’t finished. “…if anything else happens. This is the second incident’ three strikes and I will file that complaint. Isaac needs to get his shit together. This is his last chance.”

Jacob nodded solemnly, but his relief was tangible. “Agreed.”

“Hmph.” Blackbird snorted, surprising both Jennifer and Jacob.

Jennifer was about to ask what the problem was when the front door of the museum burst open. Both Jennifer and Blackbird jumped, the joint action costing Blackbird his seating entirely. While Jennifer scrambled to -_gently!_\- catch the Bitty, the raging drama tornado in question announced his arrival. “My DEAR friends! I am SO ashamed of my behavior this past Friday!” Jacob sighed, not even flinching at Isaac’s sudden entrance.

Jennifer helped Blackbird up to her shoulder, using the action to hide the steadying breath she took before looking at Isaac. “Welcome back.” Her tone was undeniably flat as she looked him over.

He’d slept since they last saw each other and looked much better for it. Clothes and hair tidy, skin improved, eyes free of that feverish light. At some point over the weekend he’d retrieved his satchel and it now hung from one shoulder while a molded case hung from the other. Striding further into the lobby, Isaac pressed one hand to his chest -gently crushing the ruffles of his poet shirt- and gestured toward Jennifer and Blackbird with the other. “My dears! I do apologize for my horrid behavior last week! I was swept away by the muse of inspiration and completely lost sight of day-to-day matters! I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me!” He stepped between Jacob and Jennifer, prompting a quiet noise from Blackbird that Jennifer was tempted to interpret as a growl. That tiny hum edging toward a rumble interested her far more than all of Isaac’s theatrics. Behind Isaac, Jacob rolled his eyes at his brother so hard that his head was forced to follow.

Due in part to his lack of eyeballs, Blackbird was in no mood for eye rolling. He snarled, “Your carelessness harmed Madam Jennifer and put her at great risk! More than a simple apology is in order!” Jacob nodded in agreement.

Isaac lowered his arms, his flamboyance considerably dampened. “Ah. Yes… B-behaving like that near a young lady unfamiliar with period clothing is quite unacceptable.” His hands drifted toward each other in a ghost of some old habit before Isaac tucked one hand behind his back and the other fisted in front of his stomach. He bowed, returning to his extravagant gestures but with a far more reserved tone. “To both of you, I am very sorry. My behavior was unacceptable. It will not happen again.” He straightened, continuing to speak soberly. “I wish for you to keep the first set of clothing I produced for Blackbird as a gift and peace offering. Is you decide to terminate our agreement I will understand. However, if you consent to continue our agreement; I will try and continue to prove my sincerity in other ways. Will you accept my apology? On whatever terms you agree to?”

“I am not inclined to be forgiving.” Blackbird huffed irritably. “Madam, I believe yourself and the curator came to an agreement?”

Jennifer nodded, “Isaac, you didn’t just push me; you also tried to lay hands on me without my consent.” The man paled at the reminder of their first meeting. His eyes flickered to the side as if looking for his brother for support, but Jacob was too far behind him. “You were completely out of your mind. Did you say you drove here like that?” He swallowed. “What if you had killed somebody?” He flinched, the tell emphasized by his ruffles. “An apology doesn’t cut it. If this, or anything like this, happens again I will be,” Jennifer hesitated for just a moment, only because the words felt odd on her tongue. She hadn’t even known she could do this until bare minutes before. “I will be filing a formal complaint.”

Isaac’s eyes tightened. He opened his mouth as if expecting some flowery drivel to automatically pour out, but that fount had finally run dry.

Jacob cleared his throat and Isaac turned just a little to let his brother know he was listening. “I’ll be writing a supporting statement if she chooses to do so, Isaac. Your behavior was beyond unacceptable. Not only did you drive here completely out of your mind, what do you think would have happened if she’d hit her head on that bookcase instead of grabbing it?” Jennifer again clenched her hand into a fist, feeling the skin tighten, pull, and crease around the tiny scabs. She’d grown used to ignoring the stings and tugs in her shoulders, but she hadn’t taken the time to think how close she’d been to that bookcase. “What in the seven Hells were you _thinking_?”

Isaac shrunk into himself as Jacob spoke. His skin paled further, his forehead glistened and he twitched under the glare Jacob was shooting despite not having turned enough to see his brother’s expression. A bead of sweat started working down the side of Isaac’s face and he swallowed thickly. “Ah, yes.” He repeated. “It… I was grievously wrong in my actions.” His hands finally came together in that nervous wringing gesture they’d hinted at earlier. “I should have… I did know better.” Jacob was nodding but didn’t seem satisfied yet. “I can’t say how truly sorry I am, genuinely. Your decision to hold off on an official report against me is too much for me to ask on a professional level. On a more personal level; I know apologies are only words, but I hope that you’ll permit me the time to prove my sincerity.” His hands clamped down on themselves and Isaac turned back to Jennifer, almost holding his breath.

She’d already extended the professional reprieve, but the private one? Jennifer ran her hand over her hair and sighed, thinking. Despite Jacob’s dark reminders and scowl, the low sound -almost certainly a growl- that came from Blackbird again after Isaac had finished speaking, and the dull pain she’d doubtlessly be dealing with for a few more days; Jennifer couldn’t help but see Isaac with pity. She was only half his age, maybe not even that much. He easily had three decades on her and yet she still got the same sense of someone without a foundation that she usually got from teenagers -like the boy from the supermarket.

How did a man that age still give the impression of a boy?

A lost little boy.

The hands clamped in front of Isaac were long and slender; the hands of an artist -and a worrier. She recalled the pride in Jacob’s face and voice when he’d told about his brother’s work and despite everything Blackbird had exclusively worn the new clothes all weekend.

Jennifer released a slow breath. “Don’t let it happen again.” She muttered, then straightened her spine and hardened her expression. “Seriously, don’t do that again. You’ve got two strikes against you and if I ever hear about you driving like that…”

Isaac nodded; not excessively but with actual, honest relief. “Right! No.” He agreed, relaxing enough that his hands again began wringing each other. Jennifer grimaced and reached over, stopping the gesture. His skin was beginning to soften with age. Isaac blinked at the contact, then sheepishly tucked the reddened hands behind his back. Jacob saw the hands and his expression softened to something very mushy and big brother.

“You’re not forgiven.” Jennifer said. Isaac flinched again, looking away. “But you still have the chance to earn it. Don’t blow it.” He swallowed, eyes bright as he nodded. Jennifer glanced at her shoulder dictator. “Blackbird? Are you still willing to model for him?” Isaac didn’t look hopeful, Blackbird’s growling hadn’t been too soft to carry.

“It was your person he endangered, Madam.” Blackbird allowed tightly. “If you think it best, then yes. I will maintain my end of our bargain.” Isaac started to smile, but it suddenly dropped away in fear as Blackbird’s eye lights snuffed out. “Tailor, if you _ever_ endanger or mistreat _my_ human again; **y o u w i l l a n s w e r t o m e**.”

The angle Jennifer had looking at Blackbird on her shoulder wasn’t the best when he wasn’t looking back at her. She wasn’t sure his eye lights had actually gone out and didn’t understand the tone. Isaac missed nothing and understood perfectly well. He stood frozen for a moment, then slowly held his hands up supplicating. “Never again.” He softly swore.

Blackbird blinked, eye lights returning. “Very well. Let us get this photoshoot over with.”

“Yes, thank you.” Isaac agreed meekly.

As Isaac, Jennifer, and Blackbird made their way into the gift shop, Jacob remained in the lobby for a few minutes; scratching his thinning hair and mulling things over.

Blackbird… Standing behind Isaac as he had been; Jacob got a good look at Blackbird issuing his threat, caught every nuance Jennifer missed. There wasn’t a doubt in Jacob’s mind; this threat was not empty.

That Bitty was dangerous.

Some would call Jacob Patterns old-fashioned -the title a badge of honor for a Historian. He believed that people needed people. Asinine as Isaac had been behaving since Rachel had died, he still had Jacob. Jennifer, she was a competent woman. Motivated, steadfast, not afraid of work. She was also a woman who had shown up at her job interview with eyes shadowed by exhaustion and a habit of rubbing the skin of her left ring finger raw when stressed. There was a strength to her, but it was hollowed out from strain and ready to collapse. The woman at that job interview felt she had no one at her back, not really.

Jacob shifted his feet in his boots, feeling the knife he’d carried for fifty years.

Definitely an old-fashioned thought, he believed women needed someone dangerous on their side. That Bitty was dangerous. Jacob could respect dangerous. The woman confronting Isaac felt she had people on her side, and not just her boss. Jacob wasn’t sure if she knew what kind of people that might be, but he passed Jacob’s muster.

Jacob smiled.

Well, that was enough musing. Now it was time to go be Isaac’s people and make sure he didn’t cause more trouble.


	20. Two Weeks Pass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks have passed since Isaac's apology. He's behaving himself. Big brothers get bored when little brothers behave themselves.

Jennifer held the Bitty with both hands gently cupped like a precious treasure. Blackbird stood proud and straight despite what was surely unstable footing on Jennifer’s palm. “Chin a little higher, Jennifer. Perfect, just perfect.”

This was Blackbird’s second photo session, Jennifer’s first. It had taken Isaac a little over two weeks, but he replaced the destroyed gown with an 1860’s lavender gingham. This gown was hooped to keep the material away from Jennifer’s feet and to keep incautious gentlemen away from her.

Blackbird matched her Civil War gown in a reproduction of Captain Hobbler’s Union Officer’s uniform. It was as close a reproduction of the extant uniform displayed on the second floor as could be practically managed with miniaturization -meaning there was no saber or gloves, but Blackbird looked four and a half inches of pure dashing in his new slouch hat.

Isaac stepped back to take in the grand staircase Jennifer was seated on as he snapped photo after photo as fast as his analogue camera could follow. “A little to your right please, Blackbird.” The Bitty silently obeyed as the shutter snapped. “And to the left.” The shutter snapped several more times, and then there was a dull click. The tailor tutted, and with practiced movements wound the film, popped it out of the camera into a light proof canister, then inserted the new film.

“When are you going to get a digital camera like the rest of the world?” Jacob asked, standing behind his brother.

“Let he who owns a cell phone be the first to throw stones.” Isaac retorted. “Soft smile, Jennifer.” His usual shower of endearments had almost completely dried up. “Oh, perfect. Both of you.” The shutters went back to work as Isaac shuffled one way and another to get several angles.

“You have to scan them into the computer later, anyway.” Jacob muttered. “You just like your little cameras. Men and boys, Zac, you know what they say.”

“Your toys are no bigger!” Isaac finally rose to the bait his brother was dangling.

Their bickering made Jennifer snicker. “AUGH!” Isaac groaned and lowered the camera. “Now look what you did!” Jacob shrugged. “Her expression was perfect for my work and now she just looks….” He faltered and the sad puppy was back as he looked to Jennifer, “She looks candid.”

“Is that so horrible?” Jacob asked.

“It is when she’s supposed to be a background model, not the focus!”

“If you don’t want her grabbing attention, just have Blackbird model alone.”

“ALONE!” Isaac gasped as if that wasn’t what they’d done two weeks prior. “His very nature makes photography with a second or more absolutely essential!”

Blackbird grumbled so low Jennifer could barely hear him. He shifted so it was easier to stand on Jennifer’s palm. She drew her arms in against her body to hold him more steadily.

“Eh, brothers.” Jennifer said, feeling but ignoring the impulse to shrug. “What do you expect?”

Blackbird grumbled again. After agreeing to the first photo session with Isaac, Blackbird had been giving the man the silent treatment, refusing to speak a single syllable when the man was near. Jennifer wondered how long Isaac would have to behave himself before Blackbird thawed.

Isaac sputtered. “Are you kidding me! Do you even know what a webpage is? Really?”

“Sure, it’s your excuse for not doing any real research the last several years.”

“You take that back.”

Jennifer sighed and slid down from one step to another, stretching her legs until one of her shoes poked out from under the skirt, then carefully pushing herself to her feet. Leaving the men to their arguing, she took Blackbird into the giftshop, setting him on the counter before stepping into the storage room to change clothes. Blackbird stepped over to where Jennifer’s phone was propped up and turned on the reverse camera option, looking the new clothes over critically. He removed and replaced the hat, tilting and straightening it for effect, then moved his arms and squatted to test how much the uniform allowed him.

Jennifer came out of the storage closet in her own blouse -not the museum’s polo shirt- and quickly tidied the counter, then turned off the cash register. She circled the gift shop, making sure everything was in order and brushing a hand over the new bookcase before collecting her bag and phone. Blackbird was boosted up to the shoulder opposite where her backpack was slung and she left the shop.

“You always drag me into these things!”

“I drag you into nothing.”

“Do to!”

“Do not.” The Patterns men continued their mature and academic discussion.

Jennifer was about to slip past them and head out for the day when Jacob noticed her. “Hold it, package came for you.” He abandoned his fuming brother and went to the front desk, reaching behind to where he sometimes tucked away odds and ends either historic or just personal. Jacob held up a large plastic wrapped package and tossed it across the lobby, causing Isaac to squeak in alarm. It was more a testament to Jacob’s aim than Jennifer’s coordination that she caught the package at all. “Have a good one.” The curator grunted, waving.

“You too.” Jennifer shifted the package to one arm and waved to both men before leaving the hotel.

Blackbird leaned forward on Jennifer’s shoulder but she just left the package tucked under her arm until they were settled in the car, tossing it in the backseat while they took their usual seats. Jennifer buckled her seat belt and started the car, adjusting the AC before she glanced down at Blackbird in the passenger seat. He was trying not to look like he wanted to look in the back seat. It was funny.

So, Jennifer had pity on him and reached back for the package. Blackbird hopped up onto the console between their seats, giving into his curiosity as Jennifer tore the package open, grimacing as the single-use plastic stretched around her fingers. She pulled out the contents and held it specifically so Blackbird could see. “Here you go, eat them in good health.”

A bag of Monster Candy. The paper bag and the waxy candy wrappers inside were printed with simplified cartoons of Froggit and Whimsun monsters. A blurb on the back advertised that the candies were safe for Monster, Human, and Bitty consumption; but advised to only take one at a time so as not to spoil a healthy supper!

Blackbird straightened with surprise and his eyes flared bright. Jennifer smirked, tossing the mailing garbage in the back seat and setting his new candies in the passenger seat before she turned her attention to the car and leaving the parking lot. While she drove, Blackbird worked the package open -it was simply done so even a Bitty could manage. He withdrew two candies and clutched their wrappers in one hand as he climbed back onto the console.

He waited until they had pulled onto a straight-away and Jennifer didn’t have to focus too much on the drive before unwrapping a candy and insisting, “Madam, you must sample one.” Blackbird ordered, holding up the little treat that was bigger than his skull.

Jennifer glanced at him, lifting an eyebrow before returning her attention to the road. “You sure? They’re for you and I don’t know when I’ll be able to get more monster food.”

“Absolutely, Madam. I insist.” Blackbird pressed.

“Alright, thank you.” Jennifer accepted the candy and Blackbird waited until she’d put it in her mouth to sit down and begin breaking his piece apart.

The candy was brightly colored. Jennifer’s piece was blue while Blackbird’s was yellow. It looked like hard candy and Jennifer expected it to be like a jaw breaker, but the hard outer coating cracked pleasantly under almost no pressure and quickly dissolved, coating Jennifer’s mouth in sweetness and… a new flavor she didn’t recognize. Monster food flavor. Inside was a marshmallow-like filling of a different flavor that blended with the dissolved coating for an entirely new taste.

The whole thing was an experience, to be sure. “That’s good, thank you.”

“No, Madam; thank you.” Blackbird replied with great feeling and solemnity.

Jennifer was tempted to slam on the breaks. ‘Thank you?’ Who was this Bitty and what had he done with Blackbird?

Instead of responding with dramatic flare, Jennifer turned onto the highway. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fun, a teensy bit of plot, and candy!


	21. Shhhh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Blackbird does not rhyme 'Marian' with 'carrion'.

The town of Thrush was easily five times larger than Hobbler. The police department and post office boasted their own separate buildings. Thrush had the distinct feeling of a town that had boomed in a past gold rush and been fighting the good fight against bust ever since. Empty buildings falling into disrepair were nested between tidy family businesses with fresh paint. Their city hall was larger than Hobblers, and less clean. Being the largest town and the namesake of Thrush County, this was home to the County Public Library; a Carnegie Library of yellow granite and the building that absorbed Blackbird’s attention so entirely that Jennifer was half certain he’d leap from her shoulder and run inside himself.

He managed to keep his seating as Jennifer passed through a modern stainless steel and glass alcove, passing electronic drop boxes, and pushed through the security doors into a carpeted haven of learning from another era. The glass from the entryway allowed light in that made the library interior seem darker than it really was, almost secret. The hushed silence and the change in lighting forced her to really take in the air, which was warm and heavy with the scent of old books and wood polish.

The front entryway was comfortably packed with study desks and chairs decorated with colorful advertisements for the Summer Reading Program. One desk was occupied by a set of teenagers sharing headphones over an audio-cassette player. Along the wall beside the doors was an old card catalog next to a computer with a sign hanging over it to inform patrons that the computer -too- was a catalog. Beside the computer was the front desk, a massive piece made of the same type of wood as the study desks, chairs, and card catalog. Behind the desk waited the librarian, who peered over clichéd spectacles at the teenagers with suspicion. Beyond the librarian’s desk; books and books and books and books. Narrow shelves packed tight. The library’s collection had outgrown the building, but the librarians clearly did their best to make due.

Jennifer wasn’t imagining it; Blackbird trembled on her shoulder though he managed -barely- to maintain enough hold on his aloof attitude to survey the area with a lordly air rather than give away how he was drinking it in. She hadn’t known Blackbird breathed more than to make irritable huffs and dignified snorts until she saw the way he carefully inhaled to savor the unique aroma of an old library.

The librarian watched Jennifer approach the front desk with narrowed eyes that made her nose look larger, crow-like. Those critically eyes gave Jennifer the impression that she’d just been x-rayed for matches, lighters, food and drink, box cutters, a penchant for dog-earing pages, or whatever else might pose a threat to the collection. A tiny shift of those eyes and Blackbird was similarly judged. After both had passed the exam tempered by decades of experience, the librarian relaxed. She had one of those faces that transformed entirely with the smallest of smiles. “Welcome to the Thrush County Public Library. May I help you?” She spoke with perfect enunciation despite a legendary hush.

In comparison, Jennifer’s near whisper seemed to crack the silence with harsh consonants. “I’m looking for the computer lab?”

The librarian nodded and took a moment to set some things aside. Jennifer took the moment to read the nametag on the woman’s cardigan.

Marian.

Marian, the librarian.

Jennifer wanted to move in.

The librarian lifted a panel on the desk and stepped through. “Follow me, if you would.” She closed the panel behind her, then led the way into the stacks.

Blackbird inhaled sharply as they stepped between two shelves. (World Literature on the left, Literary Theory on the right…) There was little space between Jennifer’s shoulders and the shelves, it was tempting to turn sideways. So many books in so little space ate what little sound there was in the library, creating a new depth of peace and silence the further into the library they walked. The vanilla scent of old paper and glue was as chloroform on a rag, drugging patrons into languid study.

Marian paused at one shelf, nudging a rolling step stool back into an alcove in the shelving unit so it was out of the way before leading them out into a small area with two comfortable looking chairs and a small round table tucked in next to a staircase. Up spackled granite steps that were clearly newer than the yellow granite walls, past another cozy little reading nook and back into the labyrinth (non-fiction animal stories on the right, animal behavior on the left…) In a far corner, past the biographies and tucked out of the way, was a tiny computer and office area -six monitors, one all-in-one printer-scanner-fax with the fax number taped to the side, and a small table with a clipboard and a wooden box shaped like a school building with a slit on top of the roof and a lock on the side.

“Please sign in before using the computer lab.” Marian instructed. “Five cents per page, and no flash drives; please. Take your time, the library is open until nine-thirty.”

Jennifer looked around as she unslung her backpack from one shoulder. “Thank you. This is perfect.”

Marian nodded, then gestured to Blackbird. They both braced for the inevitable questions, but, “Will your friend be using the lab as well, or would he perhaps enjoy a tour?”

Jennifer and Blackbird were taken off guard and exchanged looks before Jennifer grinned. “What do you think? Can you keep out of trouble while I get some work done?”

“Madam, I cannot imagine where you came up with the preposterous idea that I would cause ‘trouble’ of any kind.” Blackbird huffed and scoffed and generally made his displeasure known before looking thoughtfully at Marian. “However, if Madam requires focused time to accomplish her tasks I would not be opposed to accompanying this human. She appears to be a professional of high caliber.”

“Oh?” Marian was surprised and pleased by the compliment, her cheeks pinking.

Jennifer offered her hand to Blackbird and he didn’t quite manage to keep his eagerness contained as he leapt onto her palm. The librarian cupped her hands together, thoroughly charmed as Blackbird -still in his sharp new Civil War officer’s uniform- hopped into her hands. “Oh! Like a bird.” She murmured.

“His name’s Blackbird.”

“Marian.” Marian replied automatically.

“An honor and a pleasure.” Blackbird replied. The pink in Marian’s cheeks grew.

“Well, permit me to tell you about our lovely library.” Marian began walking away, “Do you know what a ‘Carnegie library’ is?”

“I’m afraid not.” Blackbird replied.

“Well, a Scottish-American immigrant who made himself immensely wealthy…” The librarians’ habitual hush was soon absorbed as she returned to the stacks, carrying Blackbird.

Jennifer allowed a soft laugh as she dropped her bag and signed her name on the clipboard, then dropped a dollar bill into the little wooden schoolhouse. She spent the next few hours going through her notes, pulling up different websites and filling out applications for jobs opening in the fall. Most of them were more temp work, none of them within a hundred miles of Hobbler.

The sun had set and Jennifer was well into the territory of ‘hungry’ when she crossed the last line off in her notes and repacked her bag.

A loud thump made her jump and she looked up from her backpack to find a stack of books easily a foot thick. The book on top was Eight Fallen Children by Gerson Tortoise and the spine beneath it read Practical Glove Making by Isabel Edwards. The other books were set with their pages facing Jennifer.

Marian set a card on top of the stack. “Sign here, please. Blackbird had already provided me with the other pertinent information but -unfortunately- at this time the state does not yet permit Bitties their own cards.” She scowled at this last statement. On her shoulder, Blackbird matched the expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7N9C2JS9mWc
> 
> Practical Glove Making by Isabel Edwards is a genuine book.  
My birthday is coming up.  
The two facts may not be unrelated.


	22. Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jennifer leads an exceptionally large group and Blackbird doesn't know famous literature.

The Schildkraut tour group numbered more than twenty adults and children. They were related to the hotel’s architect -Fredrick Schirokauer- by marriage and their matriarch had known Fredrick’s grandson personally. Jennifer watched as the Schildkrauts filed solemnly past the tintype preserving his cheerful visage. They looked carefully and whispered comments to each other: all save Deborah Schildkraut, the ancient matriarch, who chose to sit on the bench of her walker, withered hands resting on the knees of her faded jeans.

While her descendants studied the tintype, Deborah scowled at Jennifer, diamond hard eyes glaring from pale white skin and brows. “Patterns told you to expect me. Where the hell is the old fart?” She grunted

Jennifer maintained her professional smile as the Dutch maintain their dikes. “I’m afraid Mr. Patterns is stuck in the City Hall office. He has a major trip to prepare for this weekend and was unable to get away. He sends his personal regards, however.”

“Don’t bullshit me, girl.” Mrs. Schildkraut snapped, but she didn’t press the matter further. Jennifer was grateful, she was torn between being a little afraid of the woman and being far too amused at how Jacob had warned Jennifer about her before fleeing the hotel.

Michael -whose bar mitzvah was the occasion for this tour- returned to his grandmother’s side and helped her to her feet. The old bat didn’t exactly soften for the boy, but she did permit his assistance.

From the room with the tiny display of the most successful architect in the county -then or since- Jennifer led the group to the dining room. Though it was roped off, the double doors allowed a marvelous display of the museum’s large collection of serving sets and bone china. Even a couple of the children were suitably impressed as Jennifer regaled them with tales of the 1894 shoot-out in which tables had been flipped for protection, men and women fled the building screaming, and shots were exchanged for several minutes -more than long enough for someone to dash next door to grab the sheriff and return. When the dust cleared there wasn’t a bullet hole to be found. The hotel manager had snuck into the belligerents’ rooms the night before and replaced everyone’s ammunition with blanks.

Michael and several other members of the family snickered. Deborah looked like she’d found a fresh lemon to suck.

They moved on. The other rooms on the first floor were dedicated to displays and artifacts from the days before and following settlement of the Town That Would Be Hobbler. A brief peak at the manager’s office -a static display of carefully arranged mess- and Jennifer brought the whole group back around to the lobby and grand staircase. She waited a few minutes for the group to cluster up again. “We’ll be going up the grand staircase now. As you can see, the carpeting is not original. All carpeting on the stairs and in high traffic areas of the hotel is regularly replaced for health and safety reasons. Mind your step and use the handrails, please. Ma’am, would you like assistance up the steps?”

“Buzz off, girly. If I couldn’t manage on my own, I wouldn’t have come!”

The large group started up the stairs -footsteps a less than gentle rumble that could easily be heard in the gift shop.

Blackbird half listened to the tour in case anything should be out of place. Sometimes he followed the group at a discreet distance but he didn’t believe that would be necessary today. Instead, he read one of the books borrowed from the library. This title was mentioned to him by the curator and the librarian likewise agreed it was excellent. Blackbird read another book by Mr. Stevenson from Madam’s personal library and been thoroughly entertained, but this one was proving a disappointment. The book was simply a dissertation on morality poorly disguised as a short novel. As yet, Blackbird had no idea why the curator, the librarian, and Madam were so eager to hear his thoughts upon completing ‘Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.’

The book itself was a smaller volume. Blackbird could stand in place and read both pages, though he still took care to turn the pages from the outside corner so as not to risk tearing the precious papers. He stepped to the right, took the next page in both hands, then walked to the left lifting the paper up and over, then pressing it down so he could read, only to repeat the entire process a minute or so later.

Blackbird steadfastly refused to think about reading in Madam’s lap. He was perfectly capable of enjoying a novel without a soft, warm seat that quietly radiated the energy of a powerful soul… while someone else turned pages and answered questions… or laughed when he mocked characters their foolish decisions…

He didn’t need such things… or want them… they were merely pleasant…

A particular board overhead squeaked and alerted Blackbird to the fact that he’d been staring at the same page for several minutes. He refocused on the page, determined to get through this book and unravel the secret of why three such respectable humans would approve of it.

He turned the page a few more times, pausing to smooth a dog-eared corner at one point. Madam’s voice filtered through the building, she projected very well and could surely be heard clearly by the entire group.

Another noise drew Blackbird’s attention away from the book. He couldn’t quite identify it and it wasn’t inherently disturbing, but it was out of place. Everyone else was supposed to be on the second floor, yet Blackbird was confident he heard something scrape across the floor in the dining room.

Blackbird marked his place and leapt down from the counter to the floor. He approached the dining room at a brisk trot, listening to the creak of old furniture that wasn’t supposed to be touched, and then the clinking of delicate ceramics. “Stars.” Blackbird murmured to himself, breaking into a sprint as he rounded the corner into the dining and darted under the rope meant to keep guests out of that room.

One of the elegantly carved, straight backed chairs had been pulled out from the table. On top of the chair, leaning over the table and giggling, was a small human child. Blackbird didn’t have enough experience with human children to hazard the faintest guess at its age beyond the fact that it was _not_ supposed to be away from its mother.

The child was reaching for the antique, hand-painted bone china: authentic to China rather than ceramics the Europeans later learned to reproduce. Irreplaceable and VERY delicate!

“HUMAN CHILD! WHY ARE YOU HERE? RETURN TO YOUR MOTHER IMMEDIATELY!” Blackbird ordered.

The child, a cup clenched in their uncoordinated hand, looked at Blackbird with the same blank look of initial surprise as their human adult counterparts habitually fell into, then squealed with glee and waved at Blackbird.

The forgotten cup went flying. Blackbird grimaced as he heard it shatter somewhere further in the dining room. No. This had to be stopped before any further damage was done. “HUMAN CHILD! DESCEND FROM THAT SEAT IMMEDIATELY!”

The child obeyed about as well as they had the last time, giggling now and slapping the table. Something else on the table cracked. This was bad, very bad. Orders weren’t working and he didn’t have time to run up the stairs or across the parking lot to alert Madam or the curator.

Think fast.

Blackbird raised a hand and summoned a bone. Finally, his magic responded without effort, thanks to Madam’s cooking and the gift of Monster Candy. “Look! Look child! A toy!” The bone was about his size, tinged red. He caused it to fly about. The child watched with wonder, then laughed and slapped the table with one hand and the back of the chair with the other, delighted. “Yes, yes. My attacks are very cool.” Two more of the same size appeared. They spun and danced in circles, figure eights, and other simple patterns. “Come play with the attacks!” Blackbird encouraged, trying to make the bones move in whatever way a human child would find enticing. “Come child, play!”

The child watched, infant lips pursed in an angelic “oh” of wonder. They crouched in the chair, preparing to descend and get a better look or touch. One hand reached between their legs and feet in a way Blackbird hadn’t thought humans flexible enough to do -especially one as chubby as this child. The other hand wobbled a little seeking balance before grabbing what came first to their fingers.

They grabbed the tablecloth. It wasn’t an antique tablecloth, or expensive, but upon it rested two full tea sets of fine bone china -minus one cup.

“No, no, no. Back, go back child.” Blackbird dismissed the bones. The human child was confused and sat back on their heels to contemplate the deep mystery of the toys disappearing, then looked at Blackbird. One toy was still left. “Human child, just stay on the chair!” Blackbird coached.

Whatever their interest, the child slipped and fell.

“Fell Stars,** NO**!” Blackbird reacted immediately, summoning every last point of magic to save the most precious and irreplaceable as the tablecloth jerked and pulled under the weight of the child, tugging it more than half off the table. Five full place settings, a full tea set, and several other pieces fell from the table; antique china and porcelain shattering as it hit unforgiving hardwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO, so much is going on in RL right now. I'm actually rather saddened that something I enjoy as much as this fell through the cracks Saturday. Hopefully, regularly scheduled Saturday postings will resume.


	23. Pause Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the museum reacts to the loss.

The sound was like shattering glass, but less sharp. It was loud enough to silence the Schildkrauts as they looked around curiously and a moment later the silence was filled with the distant wail of a child.

Jennifer felt a wave of panic. Her professional smile stiffened and threatened to crack like plaster. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would just say here for a moment, I’ll go see to that.” She said, then hurried from the room, passing the display of miniature clothing on her way out the door.

One hand on the railing and the other gripping her skirts, Jennifer could only go down the stairs so fast while maintaining her promise of safety. This allowed a pale young man to dart down the opposite side of the staircase, the empty baby carrier strapped to his back flopping with each step. Jennifer heard him sprint down the hall and knock aside the barrier rope barring the dining room before she reached the last step and by the time she’d scurried down the hall to the dining room the man -clearly the father- had scooped his baby from the floor and was anxiously checking delicate and chubby hands and arms for cuts or hurts. The child -no more than a year or eighteen months- was clapping in delight and babbling, telling their father all about their magnificent adventure.

Jennifer couldn’t help but step back in horror once she got the full picture. The man and his child stood just a few feet from where a tablecloth had been pulled away from a large table in the middle of the room. Piles of ceramic shards and dust covered the floor around the cloth. That table had been decorated with some of the museum’s rarest sets. Even as she watched, an irreplaceable bowl from a dinner set the Smithsonian had expressed interest in rolled off the table and hit the floor, shattering almost to powder. The last full set in existence from that artist…

The man looked in alarm toward the sound, then slowly turned toward Jennifer. His skin was pale as death.

Jennifer forced herself to breath and think. She scanned the table for anything else that might be about to fall. Everything else was as secure as it could be with half the tablecloth dragged across the floor. The kid must have grabbed the cloth and pulled it as he walked or crawled away.

Breath. Breath again. “Oh dear.” Jennifer forced the understatement out, then stepped closer and waved a hand at the child. The baby waved back. “Are they okay?”

The father glanced anxiously between Jennifer and the ruins. “I-I can pay for that?” He offered.

Based on how Jacob had been humming at the Smithsonian’s interest in the piece? No, he could not.

“Sir.” Jennifer allowed just a little sternness to show. “Is your little…” Crap, they were dressed in one of those ‘gender neutral earth tones’ outfits. “… is your little one hurt?”

The father looked his child over again, carefully checking that skin was intact, child unhurt, even brushing his hand over wispy brown baby hair to check for dust. “He’s fine.” The father finally acknowledged, then sighed.

“Wonderful. Now, if you don’t mind; _we’re not supposed to be here_!” Jennifer smiled conspiratorially, holding one finger to her lips and directing them out of the room. As they left, Jennifer set the rope barrier back up and closed the double doors. She coaxed the man down the hall and away from the scene of disaster.

The rest of the tour group had come down to see what was going on, lingering in the lobby to stay out of the way. The teenager who’d been so attentive to his great-grandmother’s needs and so patient with her sniping and temper had stepped away from the rest of the group and gotten close enough to peak in the dining room. He was just as horrified as the father. “Could you do me a favor?” Jennifer asked him. The boy nodded. “Go to the front door.” She pointed, “Open and close it three times. That will alert the curator that we need some assistance. The boy nodded and hurried to do as he was told.

“I apologize for cutting the tour short, everyone.” Jennifer announced to the rest of the group. “Please, feel free to continue exploring our beautiful museum at your leisure.” Turning to the father still holding his child, Jennifer said. “If you would come to the gift shop with me?” She tried to look as comforting and confident as possible, as if dealing with a child who’d scraped their knee a little.

The father nodded, but he was beginning to shake. “I can pay for the damages.” He repeated.

“Don’t worry about it. I just need a little information.” Jennifer shepherded the father into the gift shop. She scanned the counter for Blackbird, but he was in the habit of making himself scarce until the tour was over so it wasn’t too surprising to see nothing but his library book.

There was a binder of important documents beneath the counter. Jennifer retrieved the insurance forms and a highlighter, marking the information she needed from the guardian of the guest who had caused damage to the exhibit. “I need your name and contact information, please. It’s just for insurance purposes.”

The young man hesitated, shifting the baby so he could take one of the pens with state flag taped on to discourage accidental theft. “Please, can you tell me how much those things might have cost? Are you going to call the police?”

Jennifer shook her head, still smiling pleasantly. “Technically, everything in the museum is the property of the citizens of Montana. We can’t charge you for accidental damages of your own property. However, for the sake of the museum; we really need your contact information. Everything in the museum is heavily insured against just such an occasion.” She assured the man. His brow furrowed as he thought about this, but it was a hopeful gesture. Jennifer tapped the paper, bringing the man’s attention back to the form just as Jacob came jogging into the building. He took over, not needing more information besides ‘a little accident’ to manage the guests involved in the incident. He’d get the full story later.

Jennifer returned to their guests, ushering a few looky-loos away from the dining room. The group milled around for a bit until the father reappeared from the giftshop looking completely stunned, the baby fussing from the carrier on his back. Several of the other Schildkrauts gathered around, asking if he was sure the museum wouldn’t call the police or sue. Jacob must have figured out the magic words to convince him, because he now assured his family members that the drama was over.

“Your son’s proving nearly as destructive as his father.” Deborah Schildkraut scolded.

The father’s face darkened with a blush. “Can we please not talk about that, Gram? It was years ago!”

“Not that many years.” A man who could have been Deborah’s son or grandson -and likewise the embarrassed father’s father or grandfather- grinned, his eyes shining. “And I’m nowhere near as old as Gram.” Gram smacked him in the gut. From how the man reacted, she didn’t pull her punches physically any more than she did verbally.

The helpful teenager stepped over to where Jennifer was standing away from the group trying not to look too amused at the family interplay. When he was sure he had Jennifer’s attention, the boy asked hopefully, “Can we finish the tour? Please? There’s still the third floor.” He didn’t beg, nor did he give puppy eyes, but the kid had a face that was probably already breaking hearts at his school. Jennifer couldn’t have refused even if she had reason to.

“Sure thing, we were in the clothing room?” The boy nodded excitedly. “Then it will be my pleasure.” She looked up and spoke loud enough for everyone on the first and most of the second floor to hear. “We will resume the tour in a few minutes, if anyone is interested.” Jennifer announced.

“Yes!” The boy fist pumped. Jennifer had to wonder how many kids were this excited about history. Was it his school or his family doing something right, or was he unique?

Several of the other Schildkrauts regrouped at the bottom of the grand staircase, then trooped back up to the second floor. To Jennifer’s surprise, Deborah was one of them.

Again, Jennifer hung back as the family moved up the stairs. While waiting for the stairs to clear enough for her hooped skirts, Jennifer peeked in the giftshop again. A couple family members were looking over the merchandise and souvenirs. Jacob had put the paperwork away and was occupying himself with the sort of busywork that would keep him available for customers without giving the impression that he was waiting for their guests to buy something.

Blackbird’s library book was still on the counter where he’d been reading it before. Usually he pushed it a little further out of the way when there were potential customers.

Usually Blackbird was soaking up all the attention he could get when there were potential customers.

He was probably sticking with his agreement to stay out of sight until the tour started. Jennifer didn’t believe this fully, but she did force herself to think it hard enough to almost convince herself it was what Blackbird would have done, even though it hadn’t been a sure thing that the tour would be finished. He’d be out after the interrupted tour was resumed and finished. If not, Blackbird was still more than capable of taking care of himself.

Or so Jennifer stubbornly told herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not; this is what happens when you break something in a museum.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dToolaaYfmc


	24. You are a Soul. You have a Body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer finds Blackbird.

“Goodbye Deborah. Take care.” Jacob bid the ancient matriarch farewell.

“Good riddance, you mean. Go back to cowering in your cave.” Mrs. Schildkraut snapped as she scooted her walker out the front door.

Jennifer continued to hold her professional smile as the last of their guests left, calmly shutting the door behind them. Once the door was firmly shut, the calm dissolved and she turned to her boss. “Have you seen Blackbird?”

Jacob looked grim, he’d noticed the Bitty’s absence as well. He tilted his head and listened for a moment before shaking his head. Hadn’t seen, couldn’t hear. Blackbird wasn’t very good at sneaking. Either his boots or his urge to scoff gave him away when he thought he was being quiet. If he wasn’t creeping about, he was front and center soaking up attention from guests and visitors but he hadn’t made a single appearance either time the tour had stopped. If he wasn’t making his rounds or relishing the admiration of others, Blackbird was usually reading, but his library book hadn’t moved on the counter.

There was only one thing of note that had changed since either of the humans had seen Blackbird.

Jennifer hurried past her boss, running toward the dining room. She pulled the velvet rope aside and pushed the doors open. “Blackbird?” She called loud enough to be heard throughout the dining room.

But nobody came.

Jennifer circled the room, hoping to see him pouting over being shut in. Jacob followed her into the dining room at a slower pace, looking sadly at the destruction wrought by an unknowing child. The tablecloth lay more on the floor than off, still bunched up in the spot furthest from the table from the child’s small but fierce grasp. He took a moment, hands in pockets, to just stare at the mess sadly.

Reluctantly, Jennifer stepped up beside him. She looked anxiously over the mess, her eyes looking for clues now rather than just taking in the damage. Nearly every pile of shattered dish or cups had a small pile of ceramic dust beneath it or left behind on the tablecloth. By now most people knew monsters -and Bitties- didn’t leave bodies. They turned to dust. But Jennifer didn’t know what that was supposed to look like or how much a Bitty might leave. She really, really didn’t want to start cleaning up the shattered cups and dishes only to find a pile of dust that was different than the rest. Humans were more powerful than monsters, even children could prove deadly.

Jacob crouched and picked up half a teacup handle, rolling it in his fingers. The little white fragment bled dust as he rubbed a thumb over the breaks. A long breath escaped him as he dropped the handle. It ticked as it struck another piece. He stood and circled the historic detritus. “Let’s do this.” He said, moving a chair that was out of place out of his way.

Jennifer mutely obeyed. They went to the table, each putting a hand on the tablecloth to stabilize it as they carefully moved the surviving pieces to the bare wood of the table. When the pieces were out of the way, they started bunching up the material and moving it aside. Anxiously, Jennifer’s eyes darted around and over the tablecloth and floor as they slowly pulled it up and back, slowly dumping the shattered cups and pieces into a single pile to be swept later.

Her attention was rewarded when a different shade of white and a splash of grey greeted her. “BLACKBIRD!”

Jacob let the cloth go as Jennifer urgently tossed it aside and fell to her knees beside the Bitty, ceramic cracking beneath her. He lay curled on the floor, eye sockets closed. “Blackbird…” Jennifer repeated more softly. She put her hands on either side of the Bitty, cupping him protectively but not touching him for fear of harming him. “What happened?” She murmured.

Blackbird didn’t respond. He just lay there.

Not knowing what to do, yet desperately wanting to do something, Jennifer’s hands shook. Jacob saw this and knelt beside her. Gently, he used a finger to touch Blackbird, rolling the Bitty onto his back.

He was clean, his usual button-down and wool pants hardly mussed. No dust to indicate injury and his tiny little waistcoat moved enough to show he was breathing. A moment or two after being moved, Blackbird grumbled irritably, face scrunching in his sleep as he insistently turned back on his side and curled up again.

“He’s asleep” Jacob huffed, relieved and amused.

Jennifer managed a small laugh, her shoulders relaxing just a little. “No wonder. He never sleeps. I don’t know why I bothered to get him a bed.” Her boss snorted. Carefully, more confident now that she’d seen him move without pain, Jennifer brought her hands together and gathered Blackbird into one hand. Blackbird sighed and curled more tightly into Jennifer’s palm as she cradled him close to her chest. She knew it was supposed to help Bitties’ souls to be near the chest… it also helped her to have him close right now.

“Well.” Jacob stood, brushing off his trousers before offering Jennifer a hand. He had to half lift her, but they got her back on her feet without tangling with her skirts or hoops and without using her hands. “I’d better clean up and document what was destroyed and what can be saved." He rubbed thoughtfully at his face, ignoring the raised eyebrow his intern was targeting him with. The mess just needed to be swept. They could both see nothing on the floor was salvageable. Two-hundred-year-old garbage was just as valuable and easy to clean as two-week-old dust bunnies. “Insurance forms to sign, reports to make to the state and whatnot.” The hand went from his face to his pocket. “Curator’s work never done, you know. I need you to watch the front. Take care of any guests.”

Jennifer nodded. “Of course.”

“Right.” Jacob agreed. He cleared his throat, not used to this much talking, and marched to the front of the museum.

Though the dining room was on the opposite side of the building from the lobby and main entrance, the main doors and everything about them were very solid. After retrieving the insurance papers from the gift shop, Jacob left the building. Jennifer clearly heard the locks sliding into place behind him.

Jennifer allowed herself to be fooled. She went into the gift shop and waited for ‘visitors’, still holding Blackbird close as he slept.

…worry…

…hope…

…affection…

…hope…

…concern…

…love…

…worry…

…hope…

…protect…

…concern…

…hope…

…affection…

It didn’t make sense, really.

Despite the common misconception, human souls were not contained in their chests. It was a funny idea; for the culmination of one’s entire being to be contained in a single part of their body. Monsters needed their soul’s magic to sustain their body, gather the magic from a body part and that part dusts. Humans were different. Their bodies could continue for a time without magic or soul, maybe indefinitely until old age. Human souls also sometimes wandered about without any body at all. Their souls were simply too powerful to be contained in their bodies, much less crushed into one part yet everyone seemed to know instinctively that the humans’ souls were most strongly felt in their chests, near their hearts.

Blackbird knew this, intellectually. He could feel Madam’s soul more strongly from her shoulder than from -say- the passenger seat of her vehicle whilst she drove. And the one time he’d… he’d been concerned for her safety when the storm had been particularly violent and he’d not yet gained confidence in the security of their new home so he’d gone to ensure Madam was well -no other reason- and Blackbird had climbed on her back – for her protection- while Madam slept… it had been the strongest he’d ever felt a human soul in his entire existence. But it was the back. Ribs and scapula and spine, it made a difference.

But when Blackbird floated back toward consciousness… this was something else entirely. He could feel not only the strength of Madam’s soul -even an Abyss damned fool would know this was _Madam’s_ soul- but he could feel concern, worry, and even care. The power of her soul gently pressed on him, directed towards Blackbird. For Blackbird, and Blackbird alone.

Care… worry… even affection… for Blackbird… That would have been bad enough but the overwhelming power of it from being so close… Blackbird desperately wanted to move closer, to burrow closer to this soul until his depleted, wavering magic was fully restored and maybe not move even then.

Instead he rolled over on Madam’s palm, putting his back to the source of this restful power. Feigning continued sleep, he buried his face in his arms. It was difficult to control his breathing and to prevent his bones from rattling. Blackbird was quietly grateful the magic leaking from his eye sockets wouldn’t stain the sleeves and give him away later.


	25. Must be Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackbird reports. The humans are confused.

Jacob knocked on the open door of the giftshop toward the end of the day. “How’s he doing?”

His intern’s eyes were full of worry as she looked up from the Bitty in her hands to her boss, but her gaze jerked down again when she felt Blackbird moving. He nuzzled his face into his arms, scrubbing bone with cotton before sitting up on the human’s palm and brushing his hands over his clothes to straighten the material as much as possible. Once sufficiently presentable, Blackbird nodded to Jacob. “Thank you for your concern, human curator. I am much recovered.”

Jennifer’s breath caught as she broke into a relieved smile that lit the room more effectively than stadium floodlights could. Still held close to Jennifer’s chest and sitting with his back to her, the bones of Blackbird’s skull colored bluish purple as if he could see the smile.

Jacob saw the color and something that threatened to turn into a smile, but he disguised his amusement by crossing his arms and leaning against the door jamb. “Up to answering a couple questions?” He asked the Bitty.

“Naturally. I assume you wish to know the events leading to the destruction of such invaluable artifacts as were lost today?” Jacob nodded. Blackbird reported succinctly and in precise detail what had led him to the child in the dining room, what he found, and the damage he’d seen the child doing.

Jacob only interrupted once after Blackbird recounted the throwing of the first doomed cup. “Found it.” He noted. Blackbird acknowledged this before continuing his report.

Jennifer remained quiet throughout. She neither said anything nor moved Blackbird away from her. She did grow confused as Blackbird described attempting to lure the human child with ‘masterfully constructed bone attacks in precise maneuvers.’ Her befuddlement was absolute -and so was Jacob’s- when Blackbird concluded by stating, “I caught the human child to prevent injury.”

Both humans stared at the five-inch Bitty; who was still comfortably seated in the palm of one hand. The human child was over a year old and in good chubby health. An easy twenty-five pounds against Blackbird’s magic skeletal ounces.

“You ‘caught’ the kid?” Jacob repeated, trying to understand how that worked.

Blackbird nodded once. “Yes. I assume the child was unharmed due to my timely intervention.”

It wasn’t the answer the humans wanted, though Jennifer did add some information of her own. “No, he was completely unhurt. In fact, he wasn’t even scared.” A child that age might have been startled by a sudden jolt.

Jacob grunted and tried to go at the problem from another angle. “What, exactly, is a ‘bone attack’?”

Blackbird tilted his skull. “A bone attack? A bone attack is a magical construct which reflects my nature as a powerful skeleton monster.” His tone indicated that he was being patient with someone who didn’t understand rain was falling water.

Jacob frowned questioningly at Jennifer, she shrugged and shook her head. Two primitive and superstitious humans in the 21st century answering a question they can’t figure out with the only explanation their backwards and savage minds can comprehend; _magic_.

They might have pressed the issue; explained why Blackbird’s superior magic talents didn’t convince them sight unseen and asked specifically for details, but the proud Bitty was listing to the side in Jennifer’s palm. He was clearly still exhausted despite sleeping several hours. Another time, if it ever seemed important.

Jacob huffed and changed the subject. “Jennifer, are you still good for the lock-in? I can ask Isaac to cover it if you need to stay home.” Jennifer had assured him -repeatedly- that she could handle supervising some college aged ghost hunters spending the night in the 13th Protestant, but now she hesitated and looked down at Blackbird, brow furrowing as she reconsidered.

Blackbird straightened up, “Human, there is no reason Madam would not be capable of such a simple task, as she has told you!” He paused, tilting his skull as if listening to something Jennifer had said, though she remained silent and he couldn’t have seen her worried expression. “I shall recover sufficiently with a little food and rest. There is no need for concern. Madam has seen to it that I even have monster food available in this backwards and remote part of the world.”

“Hm.” Jacob raised his brow, waiting for Jennifer to speak for herself.

“If Blackbird’s well enough by then I’ll be there. He can stay home if he doesn’t want to deal with the kids. If he’s not feeling better, I’ll definitely call Isaac.” Jennifer promised.

The curator made a displease face and rubbed at his chin again, then scratched a little when his five o’clock stubble rubbed the wrong way. He let loose with a billowing breath and shrugged. “If you’re sure you can handle it…”

Jennifer smirked. “I can handle it. You focus on driving safe and have fun at the estate sale.”

“Hm.” Jacob grumped, but there was a light in his eyes; he was excited for the sale. It was a small spark, but it made Jennifer feel useful. She knew Jacob had been limited in how many estate sales he could participate in to find new valuables and artifacts for the museum. In the summers he was busy doing both his and the absent intern’s job. In the winter, traveling too far put him at the mercy of Montana’s snow and ice, making the trip treacherous. “Fine. Be safe. Call Isaac for anything…” The spark didn’t vanish, but the worry resurfaced again.

“It’ll be fine.” Jennifer assured him. Indicating the Bitty -who was nearly asleep again- she said, “I’ll probably have Blackbird watching my back. What could go wrong?”

Blackbird twitched, straightening yet again. “Naturally! Madam shall be under my protection.”

The aged historian smiled. No gruff huffing, cynicism, or wiliness, just a smile that threatened to turn fond. “That’s a comfort.” He told the Bitty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No characters were harmed or learned anything in the making of this chapter.
> 
> If Isaac were here he would be shocked to see Jacob NOT asking pointed questions and getting All The Answers, but he'd also agree that Blackbird needs his sleep.


	26. If We Were Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of exposition, no plot. Probably a skippable chapter if you're familiar with the Bittytale corner of the fandom.

Jennifer paced the cabin floor. She argued viciously, gnashing her teeth and gesticulating violently with her arms, but without a single sound escaping her lips. Finally, she stopped, covered her face with her hands, and inhaling deeply, then blew the air out forcefully. She dropped her hands and squared her shoulders before approaching the bathroom door. Still silent, Jennifer gently pushed the door open a couple inches until she could see inside the sink.

Draped over the hand towel that acted as his ladder in and out of the sink, Blackbird slept soundly in the lightly steaming water of his bath.

Seeing his skull out of the water, Jennifer retreated, pulling the door almost shut again before she could really see anything else of the undressed Bitty. Guilt hit her, but she shook it off. She would respect his privacy so long as she knew he was safe. He’d fallen asleep in the car -on Jennifer’s shoulder, no less; that had been a nerve-wracking drive. She’d tucked him into his bed before making dinner and he’d only woken long enough to eat and start his bath. Peeking in on him had been for his own safety… Which did little to making Jennifer feel less like a creep.

She physically brushed her arms off, trying to rid herself of the feeling. Instead, Jennifer picked up her phone, plugged it in, and turned to the Bitty Rescue Forums. Today had left her with a lot of questions and now was the time for answers.

First of all; Bitty Bones _could_ drown, faster if they weren’t in peak condition. They appeared to need the air in their skulls or chests, but not necessarily both. So, yes, her concerns were valid… <strike>she still felt dirty.</strike>

Turning to the question of his magic usage, it didn’t take long to confirm the obvious. Yes; Bitties who overuse their magic exhaust themselves, then sleep and eat a lot afterwards. To learn more, though, Jennifer was forced to delve into those soul magic forums she’d been avoiding. Grumbling, she grabbed a notebook and pen from the bench before taking the plunge.

The soul magic forum threads were… interesting. Rather than the usual spread of informed and experienced users answering questions from the inexperienced and curious; soul magic forums were largely theoretical. Posts and threads ranged from the kooky ideas even Jennifer could see were nonsense to links for academic blogs expounding on magic and quantum physics, ancient or obscure human myth and legend, and anime. There were even a few posts by users who claimed to be Bitties themselves. Thankfully, some usernames like mamaCry, SkeletonGames, and Vex-Bitties seemed consistently competent and readable. Most of Jennifer’s notes were taken from their posts.

Monsters and Bitties are made of magic, and not much else worth mentioning. Remove a human’s water and you’re left with a few pounds of ash. Remove a large monster’s magic and there’s not enough dust to fill a human child’s hand. As such, their overall health could be read by a single measurement called HP. Everything health wise affected a monster’s HP. Papercut? Lose HP. Ate dinner? Gain HP. Dog dun run oft and broke yer heart? Lose HP. Burned off all their free magic reserves somehow catching a human baby? Lose HP.

“Health points?” Jennifer murmured, tapping her pen on the notebook before jotting it down.

Bitties with magic exhaustion would be tired and hungry until their HP recovered. If they didn’t recover their HP, Bitties might develop additional symptoms resembling illness. Ebott Monsters could fix their HP with a good night’s sleep, but Bitties had ‘soul shards’ rather than complete monster souls and needed help to regain their HP. Monster food, sleeping with large groups of other Bitties, receiving positive intent through a ‘soul bond’, or sleeping near a full human or monster soul was necessary. Sleeping near a human soul was the best of the list. In most cases, all symptoms of magic exhaustion would clear up when the Bitty reached maximum HP.

Free magic reserves were a little different than HP. HP was affected by the monster or Bitty’s health and emotional state. Magic reserves just meant how much magic a monster had above what was required for life. It was from this reserve that Bitties created constructs or did other magic.

HP and magic reserves were intertwined in that the lower a monster’s HP, the slower their magic reserves refilled. With a full HP, even Bitties could usually restore their magic reserves with just sleep and human food.

In most cases, and usually. Prolonged magical exhaustion, emotional stress, abuse, and other such things could result in a kind of scarring of either the HP or the magical reserves or both. Damage to HP reduced max HP, making the monster or Bitty weaker. A scarred magical reserve made it harder for the monster or Bitty to naturally recover their magic, even with full HP. In rare cases, the magical reserve can be so badly scarred that HP becomes permanently warped, changing the Bitty and creating something known as a ‘Horror’.

Jennifer chewed a nail as she read some stories about Horror Bitties. It was upsetting, but she didn’t think that applied to Blackbird. He didn’t seem injured or malformed beyond the relatively common crack in his eye socket.

As for more minor injury to the magical reserves, she had no idea how to test that. She had no idea what his HP or max HP was or even how his magical reserves might be measured. Before today, the only suspicion Jennifer had that Blackbird was more than he seemed was his helping with chores he shouldn’t be able to help with, getting water from a sink he shouldn’t be able to reach, climbing shelves that were too tall for him to climb.

Searching ‘Magic Constructs’ eventually led Jennifer to a rather charming corner of the internet where owners posted videos of Bitties showing off their magic. Punnies making teensy little paw prints, Bitty-Dreemurrs lighting candles. F-Undynes spearing olives with magic spears, Edgies flipping off the camera before disappearing, little flares of green magic sealing papercuts and freeing splinters.

No wonder Blackbird hadn’t been able to entice the kid down from the chair. These constructs were so small it would look like he was juggling sprinkles. How did these tiny little colored shapes related to being able to catch a human baby?

Somewhere along the way, Jennifer’s research derailed into videos of a guy accosting people on the street with a microphone and silly questions. Despite the video sound and Jennifer’s giggles, she still heard and perked up at the gentle sound of water moving in the bathroom and Blackbird’s soft grumblings.

Jennifer exited the web browser and closed her notebook. She set the phone on the notebook and grimaced, pinching a tension headache blossoming between her eyes. Before she even started, Jennifer knew soul magic was going to be a difficult subject. Starting after a long, stressful day using a phone screen hadn’t been her greatest idea.

The headache eased to a dull throb by the time Blackbird called to let Jennifer know he was dressed. This gave Jennifer a brief stab of fresh guilt which she firmly quashed -she’d been _checking_ not peeking.

When she pushed the door open, Blackbird was waiting for her on the sink’s shelf as usual, but he looked less tidy than he usually permitted himself. His waistcoat was draped over one arm rather than worn, and he was hugging his boots between that arm and his chest.

_Socks… teensy little socks!_ That small part of Jennifer’s brain that would always be a schoolgirl squealed and giggled.

Instead, she pretended to be a mature adult. “How are you feeling?”

Blackbird straightened a little. “I am quite well, Madam. The bath was quite refreshing.” When Jennifer offered him her hand, he dictated as he crawled on, “I will be returning to my quarters.”

“Sure thing.” Jennifer agreed as if he’d asked politely. That kind of response was habit by now. She took him to his shelf, setting her hand on the wood and tilting a little to facilitate his sliding off. He immediately placed his waistcoat in his little paper trunk and lined his boots were neatly beside the bed with his Civil War boots. He was obviously preparing to go back to bed, so Jennifer said, “I’m thinking of turning in early. Is there anything you need before then?”

“Hm.” Blackbird replied, his exhaustion still evident. He shook himself visibly before speaking up. “Yes, Madam. I require the shell of a piece of monster candy to be cracked.”

Jennifer reached for the bag of monster candy where it was now stashed on the shelf below Blackbird’s living quarters. She took one piece and rapped it sharply against the corner edge of the shelf until she felt the hard shell give and shift under her fingers. Blackbird watched expectantly as Jennifer carefully unwrapped the candy so it remained on the wrapper as she set it on his shelf where he could easily reach it.

Having his orders completed, he dismissively waved a hand. “Yes, that will be all. Good night, Madam. Do not forget to lock the door!”

Jennifer kept her amused smirk to a minimum. “Good night, Blackbird.”

She went into the bathroom to change before locking the front door and turning out the lights. At the foot of the loft ladder, Jennifer paused, glancing toward Blackbird’s shelf. In the dim light from the late twilight, she could see him using a fragment of the shell to scoop out some of the filling. Magic food to replenish his HP… but sleeping with a human was supposed to be the best medicine. Maybe she should offer to take him up to the loft with her? But how would she even begin to suggest a thing? She still felt bad for peeping at him naked and now she was going to offer he come to bed with her? Creepy.

Blackbird paused before eating, his bright blueish-purple eye lights focusing on Jennifer. “Madam?” He asked.

Jennifer almost flinched but suppressed it. “Goodnight.” She repeated needlessly.

“You seem tired, Madam. Do not stay up with that cellular phone.” He scolded her for repeating herself.

“Right.” Jennifer hurried up the ladder.


	27. 13th Protestant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we've changed scenes.

“Oh lovely. It feels like home.” Jennifer deadpanned, dragging her foot over the floor. Some dust puffed up, light and airy. Some tore apart in a fluffy sheet. The rest was ground into the utility carpeting.

Blackbird surveyed the inside of the church from Jennifer’s shoulder with undisguised disdain at its neglected state. “It does bear a certain resemblance to the cabin’s original state.”

Though the building had been completed to the point where there were even wooden hangers in the coat closet, nobody but ghost hunters and teenagers on dares had stepped foot in the 13th Protestant Church of Hobbler. The neglect was showing. Paint was faded and peeled, the drywall behind sagging in some places -mostly the ceiling- dust covered everything along with an undefined filth which could both be seen and smelled.

Jennifer eyed a fixture on the wall that had been intended for religious tracts and pamphlets. It was instead covered layers and layers of webs with at least two live spiders currently in residence. “If you’re feeling too tired, I would definitely be okay calling the whole thing off and sleeping in our nice, clean home instead.”

“MWEH-HEH-HEH!” Blackbird laughed. Jennifer hadn’t been joking and certainly hadn’t expected it to set him off. It was… well, if he weren’t so tiny it wouldn’t have been cute. But Blackbird was tiny, so his Amused Tyrant laugh was cute anyway. “Madam, I am more than capable of an evening ‘babysitting’ a handful of adults.” He assured her. “Now, continue. We should familiarize ourselves with the layout of the building prior to their arrival.”

Jennifer hummed and clicked on the electric lantern Jacob had given her with the keys.

She didn’t argue college students barely counted as adults. She was also no judge of what Blackbird could or could not handle. He’d been awake as usual before Jennifer the morning after the dining room incident, ate normally, kept up with his normal schedule of walking patrol, reading, and bossing her around. If there was something wrong with his magic, he didn’t say anything and showed Jennifer no less than the same amount of nothing.

So, she just did as she was told… because she was going to do it _anyway_. Bossy thing.

The inside of the church was dark and a little cold despite the summer. Jennifer located the fuse box and made sure it was locked, powering up the electricity would be dangerous after so many years. After that it was simple to learn the floor plan. A hall circled three sides of the sanctuary with all the rooms either coming directly off the hallway or smaller rooms off the first -such as the napping room coming off the nursery. As Jacob had assured her, there was a usable army cot leaning against a faded mural of Noah’s ark. The college kids could keep themselves up all night with their ghost stories, Jennifer would be sleeping.

A little more exploring and Jennifer found the kitchen, as well as the small basement beneath the kitchen which held a eerie resemblance to the winter pantry at the cabin. Jennifer left the doppelganger basement and returned to the main entryway, blinking when she stepped into the afternoon sunlight.

She settled on the front steps next to her overnight bag and pulled out a book, offering it to Blackbird. “Care to read with me?” Jennifer offered.

“Hmm?” Blackbird asked, distracted. “Oh. Certainly Madam.”

Jennifer hesitated before showing him the book title. “Are you sure you’re not too tired?” She asked again.

“What?” Again, he sounded distracted. “No, Madam. I’m fully rested.”

Jennifer frowned, tapping her fingers on the cover. “You wouldn’t say that to cover anything up, would you?”

Blackbird scoffed. Ah, back to normal. “Madam, I have chosen you as my caretaker. You should believe that _I_ would not lie about a poor state of health -or _injuries_\- to those who are responsible for seeing to my care.”

Without a mirror, Jennifer wasn’t sure if she’d blushed or paled. There was a lot of accusation in that sentence. She couldn’t quite resist shifting the book in her hands so she could see the palm that had been gouged by the corner of the bookcase when Isaac pushed her. The skin was still pink in spots from healing. Uncomfortable and not sure whether this was the time to come clean and apologize or brush it off, she only tapped the book in her hand against that palm, watching the thin traffic on main street.

Blackbird eventually saw fit to grant her mercy and break the silence. “The book you’ve chosen is ‘Of Mice and Men’? Is it a children’s tale?”

Jennifer took a breath, trying to shake off her discomfort… which tasted of shame. “Ah, no, uh. Of Mice and Men is not a children’s book, though I saw it as a play when I was a kid. It’s good.”

“Very well then. Let us begin.”

Jennifer opened the book and Blackbird hopped into her lap, his usual reading-together spot. She began, “A few miles south of Soledad, the Salinas river drops in close to the hillside bank and runs deep and green…”

Any remaining tension melted away as they read. Blackbird had a miserable time with Steinbeck’s famous dialect writing, so they soon went from switching pages as usual to Blackbird reading the narration and Jennifer giving the dialogue.

A couple hours passed like that. The sun shifted overhead and the wind cooled. What little traffic there was on the roads died down to a stray truck now and again. The concrete steps had been warm when Jennifer sat, they were much less so now that the sun was no longer shining directly on them.

George was airing his guilty conscience to some of the other workers about his past treatment of Lennie when Blackbird spoke up, “Madam, I believe they’ve arrived.”

Jennifer looked up from the book, closing it when she saw the beat-up compact car and the old van pull into the parking lot. She tucked the book back into her bag and gave Blackbird a boost to her shoulder before standing to greet the group.

There were seven kids. A couple were still in the throws of adolescent acne but the rest were in that idealistic phase where they’ve shed their teen awkwardness and the world hadn’t had time to wear them down yet.

Jennifer privately chided herself for being so cynical. She wasn’t _that_ much older than these kids… then again, she did keep thinking of them as ‘kids’ so…

“Welcome! I’m Jennifer and this is Blackbird. I hope your trip went well?”

A young man who practically dripped ‘clean cut’ stepped forward and held out his hand, establishing himself as a sort of leader of the group. “I’m Anthony.” They shook and he stepped back, pointing to “Ashley, Jayden, Patty, Carmen, Eric, and this week it’s Midnight,” The last one rolled their eyes behind a thick coating of eye makeup and angst.

“Wonderful to meet you all.” Jennifer said, confident only Anthony and weekly Midnight would be remembered.

“Wait…” One of the girls stepped forward. Yep, Jennifer already lost track of who was who. “Is that a Bitty?”

_Here we go again…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not a big deal but I did want to get the warning out:  
There will definitely be more than the previously assigned 60 chapters. Isaac's drama lasted way longer than it was meant to (and it's not quite over...) and a few plot arcs that were supposed to be brief have announced that they won't be.  
Okay... so, more Blackbird than originally planned, with Jennifer hanging on.


	28. Before Sunset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, forgot to switch the format for the story to Night Vision… hold on…
> 
> *everything turns green* There we go.

The cot’s frame finally snapped into place. Jennifer tossed her pillow on one end and draped a blanket over the rest, then grabbed the lantern went to see what the kids were up to.

They had gathered mostly in the sanctuary. Several pews had been moved out of the way and according to the dust it had been that way for years, possibly for the same purpose. Now, Midnight was arranging and powering up an elaborate tech center with extension cords leading to an outside generator. Eric, Ashley, Jayden, and Patty ran around with flashlights and lanterns of their own, setting up cameras and other ghost detecting stuff. Camden had a large first-aid bag and was double checking that none of the equipment further damaged the building. Anthony wiped down a few of the pews for seats and benches. Several papers were spread on one pew including charts and a rough blueprint of the church with notes scribbled in it.

Jennifer approached him. “Everything good here?” She asked.

Anthony nodded, scribbled something on a paper, then looked up. He had a pen in his teeth which he’d forgotten until he wanted to speak, then quickly spat it out before addressing Jennifer. “Yep. There’s enough information available online so we had a pre-plan that’s coming together perfectly. We’re setting up heat and radio imaging cameras in the nursery, so keep that in mind when you decide to turn in. According to the online… reports…” Anthony trailed off as his attention wandered. He tilted his head curiously at Blackbird -permanently leaving Jennifer with the impression of Anthony as a large, friendly breed of dog.

The young man looked from Blackbird away and back a couple times. Jennifer looked between the two in confusion until she realized Anthony was tracing Blackbird’s gaze. The Bitty was looking up high on the walls of the sanctuary and when Jennifer followed she saw the walls were lined with stained-glass windows. “Huh.” Jennifer noted. “I didn’t see those before.” Her lantern only cast light around herself but Anthony’s flashlight flickered over the images. Noah’s Ark more elaborately done than in the nursery, Moses and the Ten Commandments, and a few others Jennifer couldn’t make out with just the flashlight beam.

“Nice.” She murmured, because they were. Anthony squinted at the windows, checked his watch, then looked to the windows again. Jennifer didn’t wear a watch anymore and had left her phone in the nursery with the rest of her things. “What’s up?”

“The sun…” Anthony murmured. “It’s eight fifty-three and nearly the solstice.” He scribbled something in a journal and stood up. “Ashley!” The young woman with a pixie cut looked up from a camera she was setting up. “I’m stepping outside for a minute.” She nodded. Anthony jogged out of the sanctuary with an excited bounce in his step that left Jennifer feeling old again.

Jennifer glanced back up at the stained glass. The colored panels lethargically reflected the lights from the flashlights and lanterns below. 

“Those are a type of window?” Blackbird muttered.

“Stained glass windows, they’re beautiful when the sun shines through.” Jennifer confirmed.

“Then why is the sun not shining through them? Nor was it earlier.”

“Uh…” Jennifer was stumped. She hadn’t noticed them during their initial tour. They’d definitely arrived before sunset and they’d definitely needed the lantern to look around.

In fact…

Jennifer turned and followed Anthony’s earlier route, passing through the sanctuary, through the entryway, and out the main doors. Sure enough, there was still plenty of sunlight throwing the longest shadows of the day. She circled the building, getting a good look at the West facing side. The building beside the church was a one story structure, the stained glass rising well clear of the neighbor's shadow and the surrounding brickwork almost glowed in the dying sunlight. None of the windows had been boarded, shuttered, or otherwise blocked. The patterns and colors were more clear, though the glass itself appeared dull. Anthony had a digital camera out and was using the zoom feature to get a closer look. Jennifer stepped up beside him. “They dirty or something?” She guessed.

Anthony angled the camera so she could look at the screen if she wanted. “Just a little.”

Jennifer looked and confirmed. Some of the colored panes were cracked and there were a couple stubborn webs in places that might be sheltered from the rain, but the windows weren’t overly dirty or blocked in any way. “Did somebody paint over the interior or something?” She guessed again.

“I don’t think so, but I’ll have to check.” Anthony took a couple more pictures before he hurried back the way they’d come.

Jennifer took another minute or so to admire the windows and identify a few more of the stories before she headed back inside. Just before they crossed the threshold Blackbird spoke up, his tone urgent, “Madam.”

One hand on the door, Jennifer paused, angling her head so she could see him. “Yes?”

“I…” Blackbird looked from Jennifer to the front door. The Bitty had been on her shoulder and nowhere else since they’d first arrived at the 13th Protestant, only leaving it for her lap as they read. He seemed comfortable on her shoulder, but after long rides he tended to find reasons to hop down and look at things from his own perspective or assert his independence.

Jennifer figured he was probably still tired and refusing to admit it. Human contact was supposed to be good medicine. This was an opportunity to get a hefty dose, but something was off. Doubtless the thickness of the dust on the floor was a deterrent -the powder would reach the tops of his boots- but he hadn’t taken advantage of the cleaned pews or the army cot either. He’d also been unusually quiet. Though he reveled in the college kids’ attention after they’d arrived and asked the usual questions, Blackbird had been mostly silent afterward. Not at all the usual diminutive despot Jennifer had come to know and …um… be fond of?

Uncharacteristically, one teensy little skeleton hand was clenching and releasing a wad of Jennifer’s shirt. It moved the material just enough to feel a little ticklish, but it also looked like nerves.

“Blackbird?” Jennifer prompted when Blackbird didn’t continue.

He shook himself. “It is nothing. Proceed, Madam.” Again with the imperious hand gestures, but Jennifer didn’t move.

“Blackbird… are you, maybe, a little -um…” how to ask without offending his pride? “Do ghosts concern you?”

Blackbird looked at her as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth, then scoffed loud and hard. “Ghosts? Madam, there are no ghosts in this building. The idea!” Whatever worried him before seemed gone. “Why would you even ask such a thing?” Amused, he huffed the softest little version of a breathy ‘mweh-heh’ that was, frankly, the most adorable thing in the world. He smiled, a warm and simple smile born of his humor. “And you, Madam? Do ghosts concern you?”

“Me?” Jennifer asked, smirking. “I ain’t afraid of no ghost.” Blackbird didn’t laugh. Jennifer added a couple movies to her list to suggest Blackbird watch and pushed through the door, back into the inexplicably dark building.

Anthony and Ashley were trying to angle flashlights and the camera together to get good shots of the inside of the stained glass to match the outside. While they were trying to do that, an alarm on Midnight’s master control console chirped.

“Nine o’ Clock sharp!” Midnight announced, slapping the alarm to shut it off.

Anthony looked at Jennifer from where he stood. “Ready to lock up?” He asked.

“I guess that’s why I’m here.” Jennifer said. She pulled the lanyard from around her neck. Midnight grabbed a video camera and followed Jennifer, documenting her trip back to the main door, then carefully setting the camera on a waiting tripod. Jennifer waved to the camera, then made a show of locking the door, replacing the lanyard around her neck -as she’d been asked- and gave the doors a hard yank. They held solid. She waited while Midnight booted up another camera, and they repeated the little ceremony with the back doors which led to the kitchen; lock, hide key, yank doors. Once she was sure everything was in place, Jennifer tucked the keys back under her shirt, making sure to let the camera see her -again, as instructed.

“Okay.” Midnight announced for the camera. “Twenty-one o-four, four minutes past nine and we are locked in.”

Blackbird dug his phalanges deep in Jennifer’s shirt and didn’t let go.


	29. Fright Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> ...
> 
> But nobody came.

The 13th Protestant Church of Hobbler smelled of smoke.

Bitter, chemical smoke.

But the humans didn’t seem to mind, or maybe they just couldn’t smell it.

The young human, Jayden, was almost laughing as he brought the latest handwritten instrument readings from the cellar for Anthony. “It’s spooky down there.”

“It’s the basement.” Anthony mused as he copied the measurements into a journal. “They’re always spooky, but none of the reports on the internet said anything about activity down there.” He double checked the records. “And all the readings have been steady so far.”

“Still spooky.” Jayden insisted. He settled down on one of the clean benches and unwrapped a food bar.

‘Spooky’ was a mild word. The oppressive energy that filled the building to the point of blocking sunlight from entering the stained-glass windows was particularly heavy in the cellar, as if LV were seeping from the earth around it. Blackbird shuddered at the thought, then regretted his weakness when Madam tilted her head to look at him. He steadily ignored the look, focusing on the monitors at Midnight’s computer hub.

For some reason that escaped him, Madam had expressed a fear of ghosts and at least one of these youths was under the unreasonable impression that one such monster was in this very building. It showed how completely out of touch with magic humans were to believe any monster would willingly reside in a place like this. The malintent weighed so oppressively on Blackbird he could feel his already depleted magic reserve _leak_. Only the energy Madam’s powerful human soul naturally exuded kept Blackbird’s magic at a tentative equilibrium.

Meanwhile, the young humans continued to excitedly flutter around with their technological devices searching for ‘fluctuations’ and desperately hoping for an ‘apparition’. They were so intrigued by warm spot in the ‘minister’s office’ Blackbird decided it would be a shame to inform them of the mice nesting in the wall. As the midnight hour drew close, the young humans returned to their established base. They huddled excitedly around Midnight’s computers but were disappointed when the hour came and went with no changes in their monitors. Despite their mild disappointment, they remained undeterred and set back to work inspecting their various devices and preparing for another round of collecting and recording energy readings.

Earnest and dedicated they might be, yet none of the humans noticed the burning scent. Blackbird could not comprehend how the humans sensed nothing of the rotting hostility that flooded the building.

Madam herself mostly sat on one of the benches, contented to watch the younger humans work or play -whichever this was. She offered some sympathetic looks after the midnight let down, then stood and took the lantern on a quick patrol to ensure none of the equipment posed a risk to the building. Blackbird scowled as the hostile intent shifted, following Madam’s movement through the church. It was aware, and it was aware of her.

When she’d completed her circuit of the building, Madam stopped back in the sanctuary. “This old woman’s going to bed now. Keep the wild partying to a minimum, okay?”

“Goodnight!”

“Old?”

“Night.”

“Later.”

“Report any strange dreams or visions, please!” Anthony called.

“Deal.” She stepped away from the sanctuary, then paused. “Blackbird?”

“Yes, Madam?”

“Did you want to hang with the kids or…?”

Of all the absurd… “I will remain with you, Madam.” Blackbird’s reply was somewhat shorter than strictly courteous, but he wouldn’t have left Madam’s side even if his magic reserves were fully up to withstanding the burden placed on him by this building. The malintent was aware of her. Madam was in danger and was _not_ going to be alone until they left this forsaken energy pitfall behind. Even if she had to… ugh… use the _bathroom,_ Madam would just have to tolerate Blackbird’s guard until morning.

The short walk to the nursery was almost jarring for Blackbird. Surrounded by tangible malevolence and malice, Madam hummed a cheerful tune. The energy her soul was giving off was softly warm, while all around them was cold hostility.

Madam set the lantern beside the cot, dimming the light before sitting and toeing off her shoes and arranging the blanket. “Laying down.” She warned lightly before doing just that. Blackbird had to yank his phalanges from the material of her shirt. She moved slow so he could adjust and he made sure to stay on top of his human, which unexpectedly put him on her chest, sitting on a solid plane which must be her sternum. He generally avoided the softer parts because Blackbird was a gentleman. This still left him sitting on his human's chest. Again, the chest was where one felt a human’s soul most powerfully and it was like settling into a shelter of her excess magic and feelings. There really was no fear of the entity in the building, only calm, contentment… affection…

Blackbird allowed himself to curl up, looking over at Madam’s face. She gifted him a gentle smile before settling back and closing her eyes.

...Satisfaction… contentment… calm… affection… satisfaction… calm… contentment…

Safe in Madam’s aura, Blackbird soon slept.

~*~*~

…calm… contentment… peace… calm…

… _HATE_…

Blackbird sat up abruptly, trying to gather his scant magic as he looked around.

Nothing.

He took a moment to calm down, aided by the soothing aura still surrounding him from Madam’s soul.

The lantern cast light on a mural on the wall. A fanciful boat with paired animals, an old man, and a rainbow. No doubt, when bright and new it would have delighted the human children intended to rest here. Those specific human children were now likely grandparents.

… calm… contented… curious… calm…

Madam hadn’t shifted much in her sleep, but she’d drawn the blanket a little higher. Blackbird pulled a lose fold over himself and allowed himself to curl up again, though he tried to remain alert.

…contented…calm… contented...

~*~*~

…calm… happy… calm… contented…

…**_ hate_**!...

Blackbird startled awake, sliding completely off Madam’s chest and then hurrying to climb back over his human’s shoulder and onto her chest where he stood at the alert, looking around and challenging anything to threaten her. How _dare_ it press so close to Blackbird’s human. Vile energy forcing its way through her aura…

But his magic was still weak. Even having slept so close to Madam’s soul, Blackbird wasn’t sure he could draw forth enough to manifest more than one decent sized bone. To defend his human against an enemy that seemed a part of the very walls with just one bone? He wouldn’t hesitate if he had to but…

… calm… curious… calm…

Nothing.

Was the cursed thing taunting him?

Blackbird sat, not allowing himself to lie down, determined to stay awake to any threat.

… affection… calm… curious… calm…

~*~*~

… calm… happy… calm… contented… calm…

…**_ H A T E . K I L L_**…

Blackbird was back on his feet.

Dark. The lantern’s light was hardly there and Blackbird’s eye lights were not piercing the miasmic dark, he couldn’t see the corners of the room or the outlines of the mural. It was blackness. It was pressing in on him. He could feel it through the aura of madam’s soul and it was _evil_. Despite his courage and preparedness, Blackbird’s bones rattled as he prepared to fight.

He lost his footing as Madam sat up. She caught him with a hand cupped below her chest, keeping that hand close to her as she turned and bent over, feeling for the lantern. The room came into a little better clarity as she turned the lantern back up, then wordlessly pulled her shoes on and started fishing around in her bag.

“Madam! What? Do you, perhaps, require facilities?” Blackbird managed to drag himself from the undignified sprawl he’d landed in and braced a hand on her thumb as he searched the room. He could still feel it, but the lantern failed to show him the murderous energy pressing in and churning around them.

“Nah. I just figured I’d get back at Isaac a little.” Madam retrieved her cellular phone and tapped it. The clock momentarily showed 3 am before she unlocked the device and opened her contacts.

“The fool tailor?” Blackbird demanded. “What has he to do with this?”

“I’m calling him in. Make the old man work a little.” Madam cackled lightly at her mischief. Her soul echoed her laughter to Blackbird.

…amused…concern… affection… concern… calm… determined … concern…


	30. Tagging Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a beautiful night outside.

“_I’m on my way. Get outside the building and wait for me.”_

“Okay. See you soon.” Jennifer agreed. She ended the call and allowed herself to grimace against the annoying static. The building clearly hadn’t been constructed with cell coverage in mind. “He’s not as flirty on the phone.” She told Blackbird.

Blackbird didn’t respond. He’d settled back onto Jennifer’s shoulder during the call and his phalanges were again tangled in her shirt, the material was starting to tear. Jennifer didn’t bother trying to draw a response from him. It was enough for her that Isaac hadn’t asked any questions when she’d asked him to cover for her.

The phone was dropped in Jennifer’s bag, followed by her pillow. She took the bag in one hand, the lantern in the other and left the nursery. Just through the door, Jennifer nearly collided with one of the kids… she never did learn all their names. This one had a headset with a headlamp and mounted camera which freed their hands to hold a box displaying three numbers of mysterious purpose. “Hey.” Jennifer greeted them.

The young man frowned at her, glancing at his numbers again. “Hey. Uh, did something happen in there?”

“Nothing in particular. Listen, I have to switch out with another museum guy. Is Anthony still in the sanctuary?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You’re sure you didn’t see anything in there?”

“Sorry. Took a nap.” Jennifer apologized for being a boring adult.

“Oh.” He returned his attention to the box. The numbers made him frown. “Anthony’s still there. He rarely leaves the command center.”

“Great.” Jennifer and the kid circled each other and went their separate directions.

Jennifer’s good humor felt strained. Earlier she’d gone to the nursery in a pleasant mood. She’d even been a little proud of herself when Blackbird slept on her chest for the first time. But now Jennifer felt tense and jumpy. She’d known Blackbird was worked up about this ghost hunting business, causing him to wake with a start several times, but then he _rattled_.

The rescue forums mentioned Bitty Bones’ rattling. Bone rattling meant they were very, very scared. Fear rattling was most commonly mentioned in relation to a type of Bitty known as “Cherries” -Edgy Bitty Bones who’d been abused to the point of their soul shards cracking. Cherries were severely anxiety riddled and the idea of Blackbird doing something similar may possibly have… who was she kidding? Hearing Blackbird rattle scared Jennifer. That was it. She wasn’t going to force the little guy to stay in the building another minute.

Anthony was, as predicted, still in the sanctuary. He continued to meticulously document everyone’s measurements and notes, though there were now a couple bottles of coffee beside him on the church pew. Midnight was starting to decorate their computer console with empty energy drink cans. They both looked up with tired interest when Jennifer walked into the sanctuary.

“Did you see anything?” Anthony asked, hopeful beneath increasing sleepiness.

Jennifer shook her head. “Nope. No Casper, Slimer, or Cratchet. Listen, I’m sorry to break your lock-in but I really need to get home. Another museum employee will be here in a few minutes to replace me.”

Anthony nodded and made a note in one of his notebooks. “Okay. Hope it’s nothing too serious.” He said, likely assuming a family emergency or something similar.

“Thanks.”

Midnight stood from their computers, stretching before grabbing a flashlight. “It’s no problem. The lock-in’s more of a gimmick than anything.” They clicked the flashlight a couple times, then smacked it for good measure before the bulb gave out a weak beam of light. Jennifer’s lantern wasn’t working much better.

Together, they left the sanctuary and walked the short hallway to the main entrance. Midnight checked the camera and recorded the time they would be breaking lock-in. “Nice meeting you.” They called, waving Jennifer off.

“Good luck with your research.” Jennifer hooked her bag on her wrist to return the gesture before pulling the building key from under her shirt. Door unlocked, she paused, debating whether to warn Midnight about Isaac’s ‘quirks’. Finally, she decided to give the old man the benefit of the doubt based on his more recent behavior.

Jennifer stepped outside. The door had started to close behind her when Jennifer stiffened and spun just in time to see the door close and latch shut. Only his death grip in her shirt kept Blackbird from being dislodged.

“Madam?” Blackbird asked, alarmed.

Jennifer opened her mouth, a breath away from asking ‘did you hear that?’ but the words didn’t come out. Her mind was playing tricks on her, and Blackbird was scared enough without her feeding into it.

Nothing hissed at her. That would be silly.

Shaking off the imagined threat, Jennifer stepped away from the building and into the brighter, warmer night. Despite all the flashlights, lanterns, and computer monitors in the church, it was much darker inside than outside. The half-moon through partial cloud cover lit the area enough she could turn off the lantern. Jennifer stepped off the concrete pad outside the front door and went down the stairs where she’d read with Blackbird a few hours earlier. The further she got from the building, the better she felt. Seems Blackbird wasn’t the only one who let themselves be influenced by ghost talk.

Only when they reached the last step before the parking lot did Blackbird take a deep breath and shakily release it. He relaxed his grip on her shirt and tilted his skull back to try and catch sight of some stars through the clouds. Jennifer needed no more assurance she’d made the right decision.

It couldn’t have been a minute later before an older Honda Fit pulled into the parking lot. The old tailor climbed out of the car, carrying a lantern identical to Jennifer’s. Isaac slammed the car door and turned his lantern on before hurrying over to Jennifer, holding his light up to get a good look at her while also illuminating an expression so serious he almost looked like Jacob. “Is everyone okay?” He sounded like his brother, too. “Nobody hurt? Where are the kids?”

“Everyone’s fine.” Jennifer assured him, bemused. “They’re still doing their thing inside. You seem worried.”

Isaac looked like a teacher disappointed in their favorite student. “You know this place burned down twelve times.” He chastised.

Jennifer had to quash the urge to laugh or smirk. “Yes. I know that.”

“And did you notice how many people were killed?” Isaac pressed.

“Ah…” No, Jennifer hadn’t picked up on the final count.

Blackbird gave Jennifer’s shoulder a smack to get her attention and translate his own disappointment. “Twenty-one humans, four horses, and one dog, total.” He murmured just loud enough for Jennifer to hear but not Isaac. Apparently, the Bitty was still angry with the man.

“Uh, four horses and a dog?” Jennifer asked. Blackbird nodded.

“And more than twenty people!” Isaac said, frustrated. He then noticed Blackbird was quietly explaining and held his silence. The man didn’t even look hurt that the Bitty was still giving him the silent treatment.

“The northern façade collapsed when the Fifth Protestant Church burned. Four horses tied to a post were trapped. The dog was in a woman’s purse and abandoned when the Twelfth Protestant Church burned.”

Jennifer wondered why the four horses and the dog made this chain of incidences sound more tragic than twenty-one humans.

Isaac continued when he was sure Blackbird was done with his whispered lecture. “People have died.” He glanced uncomfortably up at the church. “And previous interns have… well, none of them have been able to stay the night for these ghost tours.”

“Huh.” Jennifer glanced back at the church herself, but honestly didn’t know what to make of the news. She half-shrugged and turned back to Isaac. “Guess I’ve got something in common with them.” Blackbird looked up at her, then down at the ground, shoulders stiff.

Isaac saw the Bitty’s gesture. The tailor might have his… moments, but he wasn’t entirely stupid and could put together the clues for himself. And he wasn’t _entirely_ without tact… sometimes. “Yes. It’s a shame, but it is as it is.” He straightened and took a deep breath, shaking off his almost-Jacob behavior and slipping comfortably back into the usual. “I best go inside! Those poor children are likely to get homesick without mature adult supervision! Ta-ta, dears!” He fluttered his fingers and started up the stairs, carrying the lantern like an accessory now rather than a tool.

“Wait!” Jennifer called. Isaac paused, one hand making a ‘hark’ gesture before turning to look at her. “Key?”

The tailor’s demeaner stiffened for a moment, but he relaxed and allowed a short, self-depreciating laugh. He barely caught the end of the lanyard when Jennifer tossed it to him. “Go home and get some sleep. Dream of me!” Isaac called, giving her another wave before heading the rest of the way up the stairs.

Blackbird stayed on Jennifer’s shoulder again during the drive -a much easier task when he was awake. After returning to their little cabin, Jennifer set Blackbird on the desk and used the bathroom to change. When she came out, Blackbird had already slid under the blanket on his little bed and appeared to be asleep with his back to her.

Again, Jennifer hesitated, but she decided it was best not to bring up his joining her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an anti-climax after Blackbird's chapter, but humans are oblivious.  
We're not quite done with the 13th Protestant for this story, just for tonight.


	31. Business as Usual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things settle, a problem appears resolved, and Blackbird is learning to manipulate his human.

The inspector narrowed his eyes at Blackbird, who mirrored the gesture. “And you? Do you ever touch the tribal artifacts?”

Blackbird scoffed mightily. “Of course not.”

More notes written in the official looking tablet. Finally satisfied, the man tucked his stylus away, shook Jennifer’s hand, and went to join his partner in the City Hall archives.

“I don’t see the point of that interview.” Blackbird grumbled. “Why are they so interested in the Indian exhibits?”

Jennifer returned to dusting shelves as she explained, “Because we have things like the Indian Headdress with golden and bald eagle feathers in room 14.” She flicked her dust rag in the general direction of that room. “Those eagles are protected and sacred, so only North American Tribesmen are permitted to own the feathers. The headdress, the arrows, we can only display that stuff because the native tribes are ‘loaning’ them to us. The Game and Fish Department inspects us to make sure we’re not selling the feathers off on the black market or disrespecting them somehow.”

Blackbird huffed, but he sat on the edge of the counter to think. “Bald eagles are sacred… to native humans?” He clarified.

“Yes.” Jennifer replied. She wasn’t exactly sure if they were sacred to all native cultures and they were also kind-of-sort-of sacred to the US, but she didn’t think Blackbird was looking for technicalities.

“I was under the impression that native tribal governments and your government operated separately.” He continued.

Jennifer nodded, plucking up a display of keychains to wipe underneath. “Usually.” She wasn’t exactly up to speed on how that worked.

“If the bald eagle is sacred to the Indians, why does your government protect them?”

“What?” Jennifer took a moment to backtrack and tried to follow Blackbird’s line of reasoning without her preconceptions. “Oh, right.” She lightly smacked her forehead with the back of the hand holding the dust rag, then turned to look at Blackbird as she explained. “No. The government doesn’t protect animals because they’re sacred. Animals are ‘protected’ when there aren’t a lot of them in the wild. The bald eagle used to be listed as ‘endangered’, meaning there were so few in the wild they might go extinct.”

Blackbird listened carefully, leaning forward a little with his eye sockets narrowed. “Extinct? Like the dinosaurs in that ridiculous movie?”

Jennifer was bemused and dismayed. Ridiculous? Did he really think something Spielberg and Williams bestowed with their combined power and wonder could be anything but cinematic titanium? How dare! She opened her mouth to argue, but hesitated. They hadn’t watched that movie together -yet. In fact, they hadn’t watched any creature features together. Maybe he was referring to something else? “What ridiculous dinosaur movie?”

“The one with the…” He waved his hand, indicating disinterested disgust. “The nuclear iguana that nested in New York City and the eggs…”

Understanding dawned. “Oh, yeah… the dark ages of Cinema.”

Blackbird was too disinterested in the film to drag out true skepticism, but he made a valiant effort. “Dark ages of cinema?”

Jennifer nodded firmly before returning to her dusting. “Oh yes. For about a decade after Computer Generated Imagery, CGI, came into its own there were a ton of really bad movies made to show off what the computers could do without worrying about being ‘good movies.’ And then they got hooked on 3-D movies for the same reason. Blech.”

“There was no excuse. How is it so hard to find and hire good writers? And artists! The best artists are wasted on concept art which gets splashed over with marketing formulas that are _decades_ out of date! The sixties called; they want their worldview back. People have been clamoring for the good fairy tales for years but major film companies still strip them of all their depth and vigor to put out a million dollar Saturday morning cartoon. And the music! Has everyone forgotten musical story telling? Yes! Yes, they have. I know there are exceptions, but those films are the exception that prove the rule. Even when an independent film company finally gets their act together and…”

“…mweh-heh-heh-heh…”

Jennifer’s mouth snapped shut, putting a stop to the prattling as she looked over her shoulder. Blackbird was still sitting on the counter, eye lights bright as he softly chortled. Worse, Jacob had returned from City Hall and was now casually leaning against the door frame, grinning like Tom Sawyer himself. “By all means, carry on.” Her boss encouraged.

Dignity bruised but not broken, Jennifer stood tall, squared her shoulders, and stuck her tongue out at them both before returning to her task. She stubbornly ignored the laughter behind her and tried to retrace her thoughts. Bad movie from the late nineties… dinosaur… Right, extinction and endangered species.

“_Anyways_.” She cut in when their mirth started to ease. “The Game and Fish Department acts as the enforcement arm of groups that work to save endangered and protected species. I have a book on the history of the Grey Wolf if you’re that interested.”

“I believe I know the one.” Blackbird acknowledged. Jennifer didn’t doubt it. If he hadn’t memorized titles and authors of her entire library, he was darn close.

“Speaking of books, how’d you like the Stevenson book?” Jacob asked Blackbird.

Blackbird was silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “The ending made it. I had not expected such a turn.” Again, Blackbird fell silent. He wasn’t done hashing over his interpretation of the novel. Jacob smiled, pleased his recommendation had been thought provoking.

Pushing away from the door, the curator approached Jennifer. “I might owe you an apology.” He said.

Jennifer looked up from where she’d been straightening silly bumper stickers. “Excuse me?”

“I owe you an apology.” Jacob explained. “No intern’s managed an entire night in that building, especially out-of-town interns. I shouldn’t have asked.”

Jennifer felt a similar dismay and confusion as when she’d mistaken Blackbird’s disregard for good films. “What? No, there’s nothing to apologize for I just needed to step out for…” Well damn, she still didn’t have a cover story. “Personal reasons.”

Jacob held up a hand. “I get it. Most don’t want to talk about it. Point is; it won’t happen again. Isaac and I’ll handle the 13th. That should forestall any trouble.”

His assurances just fed Jennifer’s bewilderment. There was some meaning or connotation to Jacob’s apology that she just couldn’t see. The only part she understood was not babysitting the ghost hunters anymore. It was a pity. The kids had been fun to watch. On the other hand, she was kind of reluctant to leave Blackbird alone for a night… and she couldn’t totally pretend her reluctance was due to his still recovering from the dining room incident. “…okay?”

That was enough to satisfy Jacob. He nodded politely, then turned and left the giftshop, likely to watch the inspectors sifting through the artifacts in the main archive.

Jennifer stood for a moment, frowning deeply.

“Madam?” Blackbird asked, sounding downright cheerful. “Have you finished dusting?”

Jennifer shook herself out of her distraction. “Ah… yes. I’m done.”

“Excellent! Shall we continue Of Mice and Men?”

“That sounds good.” Jennifer didn't manage to sound as enthusiastic as Blackbird but reading with him always snapped her out of a funk, so it seemed a good idea.

Bending down to dig the book from her bag, Jennifer missed Blackbird’s good humor turning briefly to a triumphant smirk.


	32. Meddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the subconscious is a jerk.

It was a beautiful day for a drive.

The car windows were cracked open to allow fresh air perfumed with cut grass, flowers, and distant barbeque. Their song played softly on the radio and his fingers were warm and pleasant between hers. They came to a red light and he used the stop to turn and smile at her. That smile made her heart swell, so full of love and joy.

The light changed to green and he turned to watch the road. She leaned over to feel the sun coming through the windows, fingers still interlaced in easy affection. Warm, bright, beautiful summer sunlight poured through the window and fell on her face, waking her.

She wasn’t in a car, but in bed. Jennifer couldn’t remember where she was until she rolled over to check on her husband and saw the interior of the tiny house.

The house she’d been living in for two and a half months.

Blackbird startled and looked up in alarm at the harsh clang of a soul wound. A moment later he watched with constricted eye lights as Madam’s pillow flew across the interior of the house, striking the far wall before falling to the floor with a thud.

Jennifer then dropped down from the loft -not bothering with the ladder. She stalked to the bathroom, closed the door just short of a slam, and immediately turned the shower water on.

Blackbird rubbed at the shirt over his sternum for reasons that were _not_ related to what had just happened and steadily did _not_ think of such things as might cause one’s soul such distress coming from a deep sleep. He paused the video he’d been watching on Madam’s phone and exited the internet browser, turning the alarm off before plugging the phone back in.

It was longer than usual before Madam emerged from the bathroom. She was her usual clean and tidy self, though the skin around her eyes was red and irritated. Neither spoke a word that morning. When they departed for the museum the pillow was left on the floor to contemplate what it had done.

It was days like this Jacob had to remind himself he preferred having a young woman to intern. A lady intern balanced him as a male curator and added variety to their tours. Some people were just more comfortable with a woman giving the tour and filling the stereotype of a teacher. And yes, Jacob was his brother’s full-blooded brother with a touch of the chauvinist to him. Any woman was sure to be prettier than _Isaac_.

But enjoying the professional company of a young lady was a lot different than knowing what to do when a young woman was clearly upset. The signs were clear. Red eyes, stiff posture and stiffer behavior, distracting herself with busywork she’d just accomplished the day before, and a Bitty trying not to look as concerned and helpless as Jacob felt.

While Jennifer was scrubbing the dust cloth around the keychain stand -again- Jacob offered his hand to Blackbird. The Bitty took the hint and hopped on so they could retreat far enough into the hotel to talk. The third floor seemed just barely far enough. “What happened?” Jacob asked.

Blackbird shook his skull. “A dream, I believe.”

“She’s upset over a _dream_?” Jacob demanded, incredulous.

The Bitty sneered, “And just is the matter with that?”

Jacob held up his other hand, trying to placate, “Nothing. But… she handles Isaac like a champ, and I thought she’d recovered from the night tour.” He frowned. “Is that it?”

Blackbird crossed his arms and glanced away best he could from a seated position on Jacob’s palm. He was clearly choosing his words carefully. “I don’t believe Madam received any lasting harm from that building.”

Jacob exhaled slowly, nodding once to show the Bitty he believed the guy. The curator thought hard. He’d had male interns get upset before. Family problems, finances, girls, sports, or just plain homesick. Jacob could usually knock a male intern out of a funk, get them to talk, and help figure it out. But female interns were tougher. Jacob had more than one blow up at him and leave early in the season with Jacob clueless as to what landmine he’d stepped on.

Okay, so what’s the smart thing to do when there’s a probable landmine there? Leave it alone! Jennifer was the oldest and most mature intern they’d had. She could probably deal with whatever was upsetting her without Jacob interfering.

Blackbird sat in Jacob’s palm, looking back toward the stairs with an expression just a little too pinched to be neutral. He was like a very small, boney, open book. No treading on eggshells or confusion here. “Just keep an eye on her.”

The Bitty turned to Jacob with the exact amount of indignation and pride Jacob was expecting as he snapped. “I don’t need to be told that much!” Good. The Bitty’s dander was up and his pride at stake, much better than gloomy and worried.

Their brief man-to-monster talk finished, Jacob carried Blackbird back to the gift shop. Jennifer had finished dusting and was now straightening the souvenir sweatshirts… even though no guests had been in to look at them since Jennifer straightened them last. She hadn’t said a word all day and it was amazing how just this much -a single silent, tense person- made the entire hotel feel stuffy and cramped.

For just a moment, Jacob again entertained wonder at the building. If one person could change the air even on the opposite side of the building, what had it been like when dozens of people were here, filling the building with their noise and life? It was the historian’s eternal frustration, a past reality at their fingertips they couldn’t quite touch.

Jacob set the Bitty on the counter as usual. The two of them watched Jennifer as she twitched a sleeve into place, then twitched it again, not happy with the first placement. After another few moments of finicky adjustments she stiffened and turned to look at them. Jaw clenched, the corners of her eyes tight, there would be no silly sticking out her tongue today. “What?” She bit out, restraining herself from snapping.

“I’m heading for the office.” Jacob explained. Blackbird gave him a look that made it clear he knew Jacob was retreating with his tail between his legs. “If the delivery from Upton Distribution comes in, go ahead an open it up, add it to the inventory.”

Jennifer stiffly nodded her acceptance of the task and Jacob left. He continued to ponder his intern and his own cowardice. If she were a young man he’d ask what the problem was an if that young man refused to talk he’d kick them out until they figured it out. With a young woman, Jacob was too ignorant to know how to talk it out and far too hesitant to send her home for the day when she was clearly in no state to give a professional tour.

Jacob crossed the parking lot, stepped through the side entrance to City Hall, down a flight of stairs to the basement, past the high security door that protected the archives, and through the open door of his office. He sunk into his chair behind the desk. There was work that could be done, but instead Jacob puzzled and puzzled until his puzzler was quite sore.

Finally, he was forced to admit defeat. He really should let Jennifer handle this herself. She was an adult and surely a dream couldn’t have been _that_ upsetting… but Jacob couldn’t just Not. So, in absence his own expertise, he called in someone who’d actually managed to keep a woman happy for over forty years.


	33. Bleeding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just need someone to see you.
> 
> Short but important little chapter.

The stylus scraped against the plastic touchpad, catching every nick and scratch of wear and tear as Jennifer signed for the packages. She snapped the stylus back into place and all but shoved the machine back at the delivery guy.

“Uh, have a nice day.” He managed before turning to go. Jennifer didn’t wait to close the door firmly behind him. She hefted the top box he’d brought and carried it into the giftshop before returning for the second, heavier box. It wouldn’t budge at first, but stubbornness -and some unfeminine growling- prevailed and she lifted the box completely, feeling a sort of savage satisfaction at the strain it put on her shoulders as she also carried the box into the giftshop and dropped it on the floor with a thunderous bang that was somehow both satisfying and irritating.

Teeth on edge, Jennifer went to the storage room and had to step on a low shelf to get to the one where they hid the box cutter. It hadn’t bothered her even before the dining room incident made it clear why the blades and any other potentially hazardous items were stored well away from a child’s reach, but today the extra effort was just another insult.

Once cut open, the first box revealed some more MONTANA shirts in gaudy colors only a tourist could love, paper fans with teepees and grizzly bears painted on them, sunglasses suspiciously lacking in UV protection stickers, and a ‘complimentary’ stuffed grizzly bear to try and lure Jacob into buying more of the expensive stuffed animals whole sale.

Jennifer tossed the bear aside -it landed a couple yards away with a flump- then began adding the new stock to the shop’s inventory list and putting it away. When it was empty, Jennifer decided to forego the boxcutter and just tore the box to cardboard ribbons. What little pleasure she’d gotten from the minor destruction was gone by the time she’d thrown the garbage away and cut open the second box.

Books. No wonder the box had been so heavy she’d nearly hurt herself carrying the stupid thing in here.

Jennifer pulled the books out of the box, stacking them on the floor to make inventory faster. The last layer of books were all the same Haunted Hobbler books she’d read with Blackbird after the first week at the museum. They also fit perfectly into the box, meaning there was no room to slip a finger in and pull them out. She tried, but that sickeningly familiar sensation of skin parting made her yank her hand back before the papercut began to sting.

Anger, frustration, and now a fresh kind of pain. Jennifer simply tore this second box apart, too, not even bothering to set aside the freed books but just kept tearing at the cardboard until there were no pieces left large enough to bother tearing up. Some of the cardboard scraps had tiny smears of blood. Jennifer stared at one of these smears, mind stubbornly empty as she panted.

A gentle touch brushed Jennifer’s left ring finger. Yelping, she reeled back, spooked.

Isaac knelt on the floor beside her. As far as Jennifer’s sense of awareness was concerned, he might as well have just teleported into the gift shop in the instant before touching her. His relaxed posture and a couple feathery shreds of cardboard lodged in the ridiculous frills of his poet shirt suggested otherwise.

“What do you want?” Jennifer snapped. No patience, no pretense of manners or professionalism.

Even more than when he’d rushed to take over at the 13th Protestant, Isaac’s expression was sober. That alone was creepy and Jennifer wanted it to stop. Instead, he held one hand in a peace gesture, the other he extended to offer a handkerchief.

Confused, Jennifer touched her face and discovered wetness. Angrily, she scrubbed it away with her bare palms. She only really accomplished rubbing her face a little raw.

Isaac lowered the handkerchief, but not so much that the offer wasn’t still there. He waited quietly as she irritably started picking the books out of the pile of cardboard and setting them aside, only to throw the last book across the room and turn on Isaac, standing as she hissed, “I’m fine. Leave me alone!”

In response, Isaac also stood, took Jennifer’s hand and wrapped the handkerchief around her now bloody middle finger, curled her remaining fingers to hold the cloth in place, and very softly said, “You’re hurting. Give it time to let the bleeding stop, dear.”

Jennifer grimaced and looked away as Isaac returned her hand, giving it just a quick squeeze before stepping away. Isaac offered a hand to Blackbird, who had been sitting, silent and unnoticed, on the counter the entire time. The Bitty eyed the tailor’s hand with suspicion and didn’t move until Isaac tilted his head toward Jennifer. Reluctantly, Blackbird stepped onto Isaac’s palm. The human’s eyes widened when he felt the Bitty’s weight for the first time, but he only used his second hand to very carefully cradle Blackbird before stepping over to Jennifer and depositing him on the woman’s shoulder.

Blackbird sat very stiffly, unsure of what to do. Amused, Isaac took Jennifer’s uninjured hand and ignored her scowl as he drew her arm across her chest to rest the hand on her shoulder beside the Bitty. Blackbird stared at the hand for a moment before glancing up at Jennifer’s face. He then reached over and grabbed one of Jennifer’s fingers tightly.

Jennifer’s scowl softened and she very carefully did not look at Blackbird while Blackbird likewise did not look at her, but otherwise neither moved.

Isaac smiled and clasped his hands together cheerfully before flouncing from the room. He paused outside the giftshop and glared to the side, then turned back and closed the door. A moment later Jennifer and Blackbird heard him say, “Come on, you dork.” Before two heavy sets of shoes left the building.

Jennifer stood in the middle of the debris caused by her tantrum. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t move her hand either. Blackbird’s grip on her finger, tiny as it was, remained firm. From time to time, Jennifer dabbed or wiped at her face with the handkerchief, not crying but sniffing and puffing a little.

Later, after she’d returned Blackbird to the counter and begun cleaning up her mess, Jennifer decided not to count Isaac’s touching her without permission as a third incident.


	34. Tremulous and Tender

While the artifacts in the Hobbler Hotel and Museum were on display to the public, the bulk of the historic archives were located in the basement of City Hall. The basement was largely closed off to visitors behind steel doors and state of the art locks to match state of the art systems to protect the artifacts within.

Less impressive was the beat-up wooden door with a slightly dusty false wood plaque that read “Patterns, Museum Curator.” The lock on this door was small and had been broken for about twenty years, but the uncomfortable wooden chair Jacob offered for guests was nearly as effective at keeping people out of his office as the security system was for the archive.

Isaac sat in that legendary chair. Arms crossed, back straight, his expression cold as he watched his brother.

Jacob sat in a far more comfortable wooden office chair -an antique which belonged to a former mayor’s secretary back when secretaries secretly ruled the world. He hunched over his desk, brow furrowing mightily and frown digging down into his jowls. The resemblance to a grouchy pug was undeniable.

They’d been sitting like this for quite some time even before Jacob gave up pretending to have important paperwork and capped his fountain pen. He waited through more silence before finally growling, “Okay, Isaac. I know you want to say it so go ahead and spit it out.”

“You’re a coward.”

Jacob flinched. “I just would’ve made things worse.” He muttered.

“Count yourself lucky if you didn’t manage that anyway.” Isaac snipped, unfolding his arms so he could set them to work emphasizing his words. “She doesn’t trust me -for good reason!- and who did you send in?” Jacob grumbled an inarticulate reply. “You, she respects. But when she needed a hand up, you retreated to your little office and sent in the clown.”

“…don’t call you that…” Jacob muttered.

Isaac ignored him. “You’ll apologize.”

Jacob grumbled some more but nodded.

~*~*~

Blackbird was a monster of great skill, power, intelligence, taste, wit, cleverness, mental and physical agility, courage, wisdom, good looks, and an almost unreasonable humility about his many superb qualities. Yet another facet of his ongoing magnificence was his ability to freely admit when he’d not yet mastered a skill to perfection.

Feelings, for example. Oh, naturally, Blackbird had feelings. Any fool worth half the oxygen they consumed in any given day could see he was a fully sentient being and as such came a wealth of vibrant yet refined emotions. Blackbird’s emotional life was deep and full. For example; Blackbird was -despite everything- a compassionate sort of monster. More so as he spent time with humans who proved worthy expenses of food, oxygen, and Blackbird’s personal time and attention. Expressing that compassion… however…

He’d been perfectly willing to spend the afternoon with Madam as she collected herself, small hisses of pain and unhappiness still leaking from her soul. Yet… Blackbird never felt quite so unequal to a task. It was rare for him to feel so very…

…small.

There was nothing wrong with Blackbird’s stature. It was perfectly respectable. It just so happened that humans were unreasonably large, so one could never be sure if physical assurance went far enough, especially when he’d never attempted to do so for a human before.

They’d remained silent and mostly still in the giftshop for an hour as Madam just kind of leaked.

Blackbird only released his grip on her finger when she twitched a couple of the others, signaling that she wanted to move. He let go and she lowered her hand, looking around the gift shop as if she’d only just arrived. After taking it in, Madam wet the tailor’s handkerchief with water from her backpack and washed her face, then bandaged her finger properly. Only then did she lift her hand to her shoulder again, palm up. Blackbird moved from her shoulder and she left him on the counter before setting back to work; wiping and moving the books aside, disposing of the cardboard, and sweeping before finishing the inventory.

The curator remained out of sight for the remainder of the day. He apparently deemed it necessary to avoid Madam until the storm had most assuredly passed. Blackbird realized this as Madam was locking up the hotel that evening. Blackbird felt a mix of sour annoyance. Today was the first time he’d felt disappointed in the older human’s behavior or decisions.

Blackbird remained on Madam’s shoulder as they returned to their little cabin in the woods. He paid close attention to what he could feel of Madam’s soul. The wound from her broken pair bond -reopened in the morning- was still raw, but no longer weeping negativity and hurt.

Madam removed her shoes, put her things away, refilled and refrigerated her water bottle, then began preparing dinner. Though she paused by the desk, Blackbird made no move to get down, and she didn’t lift her hand to insist. He remained on her shoulder as she cooked brown rice, chopped carrots, celery, and peppers, browned and diced chicken, heated and spiced some stock, then mixed it all in a pot to simmer. Madam sliced a fresh loaf of the local sourdough bread and slathered the slices generously with butter. She didn’t offer to help Blackbird down and he didn't move until both of their places were set with steaming bowls of soup and the plate of buttered bread slices was stacked high. Madams soul calmed and settled further as they ate until Blackbird could no longer sense the tenderness of the wound, cut off from her again. After cleaning up their dinner, Madam took her usual time in the bathroom and likewise prepared Blackbird’s bath as usual. They said nothing as she carried him in, and he only needed to cough to summon her when finished.

Though it was still early, Madam made a show of collecting some books she’d been reading on her own and leaving her phone where Blackbird could get to it should he wish to. She also made sure the front door was locked and turned out all the lights save a small lamp she’d recently purchased for the loft. The pillow that started the day remained exiled to the far side of the cabin. Before climbing up the ladder, Madam paused as she sometimes did, looking thoughtful. She glanced at Blackbird in his quarters with her brow furrowed and for a moment Blackbird thought she’d break the silence between them.

Instead, she smiled. It was shaky and damp with tears still ready to be shed at the drop of Blackbird’s cavalry hat. She wasn’t smiling as an outpouring of positive feeling, no laughter or wry amusement held it up. It was a forced smile, but forced as an act of genuine gratitude, a gift of sorts. Something gave under that forced smile and with a gentle snap Blackbird might have missed had he not been so vigilant the entire evening, the weak thread of a young bond set. Small, frail, but genuine; a soul bond. Not a Soul Bond as might happen between family or lovers, but a bond all the same. Thin and new as this bond was, it was a key to allow Blackbird to check on his human when worried.

Blackbird’s eye lights must have done something to embarrass him, because Madam’s eyes widened for a moment and her smile softened to something closer to natural before she turned and -still wordless- climbed the ladder.

As Madam settled into the loft, Blackbird waited, listening. After a moment he heard a soft huff that could have been amusement (he wasn't looking, but he thought he felt it? Yes, he was sure he felt her amusement) and then the crinkling of paper as she unwrapped the monster candy he’d left on her pillow.

That night, though Madam tossed and turned some as her body reacted to the tension she'd held it in all day; Blackbird slept soundly, one hand pressed over his chest as if that helped him feel and shield the fragile new bond, which assured him all night that Madam was close, and she was well.


	35. Getting Back Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac hasn't been a dang fool in a while, I hope he's not sick.

“… the stronger wolf is the one you feed.” Jennifer said, running the push sweeper over the carpet.

Blackbird pondered the parable until Jennifer finished sweeping the third floor and started down the stairs. “Yes, that does fit the novel’s themes.” He agreed before lapsing into a brief thoughtful silence. They’d broken the previous day’s silence almost immediately with the usual ‘good morning’ greetings and friendly chatter. Jennifer wasn’t completely over her emotional upheaval, but she was doing better, getting her feet back under her. Like Blackbird and his magic, Jennifer had burned off a lot of _feelings_ and would need some food and sleep to recover her reserves.

She reached the bottom of the stairs before Blackbird continued. “Do you personally believe this philosophy?”

“Yes. There are rarely any humans in history who are entirely irredeemable or perfect. We’re usually one or the other at different times. I suppose it’s the same for monsters.”

Blackbird nodded, not agreeing directly but accepting her opinion.

Jennifer stored the push sweeper and returned to the giftshop, offering Blackbird her hand. He hopped aboard and she lowered him to the counter next to his library books. She then returned to the storage room to change, leaving the door open so they could continue speaking.

“Have you decided on your next book?”

“Perhaps. Were you interested in the monster history?”

Jennifer poked her head out of the storage room, revealing a scandalous strip of her shift. “Me? Interested in history? Slander.” Smirking, she drew back out of sight.

Blackbird chuckled. “Of course, what was I thinking?” He pushed ‘Eight Fallen Children’ to one side where both Madam and he could reach it as time permitted. That left the gloves text as the last of his library books.

Madam soon emerged from the storage closet, one hand still on her bun and the last of her hair pins in her teeth. She’d barely slid the pin into place when the front door of the hotel opened. Jennifer straightened up and started for the door to greet whoever was coming in.

“_Hello-o-o _my dears!”

“Him again.” Blackbird grumbled, mood fowling.

Isaac swept into the room with his leather portfolio in one hand and a cooler in the other while his camera case dangled from one shoulder.

_At least the fool brought lunch_. Jennifer blinked in surprise at herself. Where did _that_ come from?!

Isaac set the cooler down near the door of the giftshop and held up his portfolio. “I have a new design for Blackbird and I think everyone will find it quite delightful!” He leaned his portfolio against the counter before carefully removing the postcard stand. “I’m also pleased to announce; now that I’ve finally mastered felting I have the bowler that should have been completed with Blackbird’s first wardrobe.” The portfolio was opened and the familiar paper packages were placed on the counter. Isaac unwrapped one and presented Blackbird with the hat meant to match his late 19th century mercantile clothing, balanced on the tips of two fingers.

Resignedly, Blackbird took the hat from the tailor and put it on. The miniature bowler -or later ‘derby’ hat- was a lovely fawn with burgundy trim and ribbon. It was a very handsome little hat… but it looked just silly on top of the Civil War captain’s uniform Blackbird was currently wearing.

Blackbird must have picked up on the looks both Jennifer and Isaac gave him when they saw the combination because he took the hat off promptly.

“It’ll look great with the other clothes.” Jennifer assured him. Blackbird just scowled, still choosing to remain mute in front of Isaac.

“It surely will.” Isaac agreed brightly, beginning to unwrap the remaining clothes. “Now! You have late 18th century common, 18th century military, and now I present you with; the Regency Gentleman.”

The first piece of clothing to catch the eye was the era’s characteristic tailcoat – a solid blue with polished brass buttons, high and squared in the front, long in the back. Isaac further revealed his talent for cobblery by including yet a third pair of boots, these were every bit as high as the cavalry boots Blackbird now wore, but elegant in cut. Nearby, nestled protectively in a cardstock box, sat a top hat.

Blackbird lifted the top hat from the box and compared it side by side to the bowler hat.

“Same color.” Jennifer noted, earning a small nod of agreement from Blackbird.

“Same rabbit.” Isaac agreed. “There was an… accident with my dyes.” He pulled back the lacy cuff and sleeve of his shirt to reveal spots of blue and red staining his wrist. Jennifer couldn’t help it, she snickered. Isaac seemed delighted to have amused her.

They set up the tee shirt tent for Blackbird again and the Bitty disappeared inside.

While they waited, Isaac case several sidelong glances at Jennifer. At first it only bothered her slightly, but the looks kept coming and she was still feeling a little raw. “Something the matter?” She finally asked, trying not to snip.

“Oh! Nothing… I was just wondering how things went with Jacob.”

Jennifer gave him a bemused look. “He hasn’t been in.” She explained. “It’s his day off.”

“Oh! How silly of me!” Isaac chirped and smiled. His smile had gone very sharp and remained so as he picked up his portfolio and removed his smartphone. The image of the older man with the thinning hair on the back of his head and ridiculous Renaissance/Edwardian clothing smiling a vampiric smile and typing on a modern phone was enough for Jennifer to take a step away, just in case.

Blackbird emerged from his tent shortly after, top hat firmly in place. “Oh…” Jennifer murmured.

There was just something about the little skeleton that owned historical clothing. Blackbird had the posture and confidence for such clothing whether he be dressed as a self-made man, a leader of men, or a gentleman of highest privilege. To make matters worse, the burgundy trim on Blackbird’s top hat and the deep blue of his tailcoat seemed to partner perfectly with his bluish-purple eye lights.

“Perfect!” Isaac pronounced with giddy triumph. In a moment he was stumbling over himself, trying to get back to where he’d left his camera case and set up for a few quick shots.

“He may be right.” Jennifer agreed. Blackbird smirked and -heaven help the women of the world- tipped the brim of his hat. His sauciness made Jennifer laugh.

After that came the usual photo session. Isaac had Blackbird pose in the dining room, on the elaborate stair railing, on an antique desk with a fountain pen, wherever it struck Isaac’s fancy. In his waistcoat, in tails without his hat, with his hat, and in the caped greatcoat. Blackbird followed Isaac’s instructions, posing, emoting, dressing and undressing, doing everything but speaking.

All the while Jennifer watched and grew more and more confused.

Isaac was changing film and wrapping up the shoot when he noticed Jennifer’s ill-concealed bemusement. “Is something the matter, dear?” He asked.

“No… well…” Jennifer considered, then spat it out. “Did you put a bum roll in that greatcoat?”

Isaac tittered and closed the camera back. “No. Why do you ask?”

“It just… the back kind of looks like it has a small bustle? The later era greatcoat didn’t fluff out like that.”

Blackbird turned to reveal a side view of the coat while Isaac looked him over. The Bitty reached back and patted the poof in question, noticing it for himself.

“Ah! That!” Isaac said. “Yes, there are some extra pleats and materials sewn into Blackbird’s greatcoat, reminiscent of the frock coat popular in the previous century. A little anachronistic but not unrealistically so. I thought it would add a certain charm to Blackbird’s wardrobe and couldn’t resist.”

“Oh? Why?” Jennifer asked.

Isaac stiffened, the camera in one hand and the other reaching for his case. He looked at Jennifer, eyes flickering guiltily to the empty shoulder Blackbird usually sat on. Though Isaac usually spoke in a slightly higher tone for a man, his voice slipped up another half octave before he piped, “No reason!” And hurried to put his camera away.

Jennifer squinted suspiciously and opened her mouth, hand coming up to shake a finger and demand answers when the front door opened again. Isaac, Jennifer, and Blackbird turned to see who was coming in and were equally surprised to see not a visitor, but Jacob.

The museum curator stepped into the hotel, brow furrowed and muttering under his breath, holding a small bouquet of flowers. Jacob was startled out of his train of thought when he saw the three of them staring at him. He actually took a half step to back out of the museum again, but then set his determination and stepped into the building, leaving the door open behind him.

“Ah! So, you decided to come after all!” Isaac practically sang.

Jacob scowled and pointed the flowers at his brother, then flicked them to point through the main doors. “You. Out.” He ordered.

Isaac swept up his camera case and slipped into the giftshop for his portfolio. “I was never here.” He trilled. “Toodles all!” Jacob continued to scowl as Isaac left the building, twiddling his fingers at Jennifer before going and nearly getting said fingers caught in the door when Jacob kicked it shut after his brother.

After the slam from the door had faded, Jacob’s scowl turned sheepish as he glanced at Jennifer. Looking between his intern and the flowers, the old man finally inhaled, straightened up, and approached her. Awkwardly, clearly not in the practice of handing ladies flowers, he held the bouquet out to Jennifer at arm’s length.

Jennifer’s mouth was still hanging open and her hand up to question Isaac, and she didn’t see the need to change much now. “Uh?”

Clearing his throat in a noise not dissimilar to a horse, Jacob recited rapidly, “I deeply and sincerely apologize for leaving you yesterday when you were clearly upset and I further apologize for leaving you to my brother.” His mouth snapped shut and his face settled into a gruff old man’s shy fear. After a moment during which Jennifer questioned if she was really seeing Jacob’s cheeks pinking up, he added. “The, uh, florist said these were appropriate?”

Jennifer huffed her amusement and accepted the flowers, inhaling the faint, almost spicy, bitter honey of the purple hyacinth. She smiled at Jacob, who she hadn’t even been mad at in the first place. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for trying to bottle up on a bad day. It wasn’t a smart decision.”

Jacob hooked a thumb in his suspenders and shuffled a boot on the floor. “It’s perfectly understandable. Everyone has things going on. I should have at least tried to be supportive, though.”

“You called Isaac, didn’t you?”

“Sorry about that.”

Jennifer shook her head. “He actually knew what to say.” She assured him. “Thank you.”

There was no denying the pinking in Jacob’s cheeks now. He shuffled a little more, tucked his hands in his pockets, pulled them out again, and finally grunted. “Well… I’ll let you get back to… whatever.” Jacob nodded to Blackbird on the registration desk. “Thanks for staying with her.”

“Always.” Blackbird readily answered.

It was Jennifer’s turn to pink, eyes widening at the answer. Jacob relaxed and snorted in amusement at her embarrassment, then turned to leave.


	36. This magic moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we have another nice evening.

“Six-fifty, six-fifty, six-fifty point… fourteen... ah-ha.” Jennifer slid What Color is Your Parachute? off the library shelf and added it to the short stack of books in her arms before turning and working a path through the shelves toward the exit.

When she finally stepped out of the collection and into the entrance and reading area, Jennifer saw a crowd gathered around the checkout desk. She recognized a couple of the people as Thrush County Library’s librarians and suspected several of the others were, as well. Some were clearly not dressed for work and had been called in. Only Marian was missing -presumably actually doing her job at the moment. “Gee. I wonder where Blackbird could be?” Jennifer mused, smiling.

Sure enough, the Bitty in question was holding court atop a stack of books, preening like a peacock in his Regency Dandy suit and answering all questions presented to him with poise, charm, and an appropriately hushed library voice.

The guy would wreak havoc in a royal court.

As Jennifer approached the desk a few of the librarians glanced up. “Oh… don’t worry, I’ll handle this.” The young male librarian broke away and managed to smile which entirely hid reluctance to tend a patron rather than continue admiring the Bitty. Because it was not yet law for all librarians to be named Marian, his nametag read ‘Terrell.’ “Hello. Have you made your selection?” His librarian hush needed a few more years for complete mastery, but he had real potential.

Jennifer set her stack on the counter. “Yes, I’ll take these, please.”

“Of course.” Terrell took the offered card and scanned it, then began scanning the books.

“And if he wants to keep those books, they go on my card as well.” Jennifer added, pointing to Blackbird’s pedestal of literature.

Terrell looked between them, then grinned. “Oh, you’re his owner?”

Jennifer forced a chuckle she didn’t feel as the group of librarians and Blackbird himself all seemed to turn to watch her. She really hated when people asked that. “I’m pretty sure he owns me.” She quipped.

Terrell and a couple of the other librarians chortled. Blackbird was helped down from his perch and the books he’d chosen were slid over to Terrell. Blackbird’s stack was easily three times as tall as Jennifer’s and far more eclectic. In addition to the glove text and Eight Fallen Children, which were being renewed, Blackbird had chosen an introduction to physics, iRobot, The Anarchist’s Cookbook, a Montana state birdwatching and nature guide, a book on human trafficking… and those were just the books which Jennifer got a good look at before first filling her backpack, then handing over a cotton bag to be filled.

Jennifer’s selection included the job-hunting book and, “Wow. Did you check out our entire monster section?” Terrell whistled.

“Maybe.” Jennifer shrugged. She definitely had.

Eight Fallen Children was proving interesting, but after a couple fairytale-like lines about the ancient war and the humans locking the monsters underground, the book focused almost entirely on the human children. There was nothing substantial concerning monster history. So, Jennifer had gone ahead and grabbed all three of Thrush County Library’s other monster history books.

Once all the books were scanned and bagged, Terrell printed off a receipt. “Those books are due back in three weeks. Or; you can renew online.” He said.

“I’m sure he’ll be done with them in three weeks.” Jennifer said. The librarians tittered and Blackbird made an almost helpless gesture before stylishly shrugging into his great coat and brushing imaginary dust from his top hat. Alas, he was but a slave to literacy and culture.

Jennifer hefted her backpack on one shoulder and the heavy cotton bag in her other hand. She couldn’t even pretend it wasn’t a lot. When she held out her hand, Blackbird managed to climb aboard looking much more poised and collected than usual, and when he settled on her shoulder with a flip of his coat tails Jennifer half expected him to direct her like a carriage driver… or his horse.

“Bye Blackbird!”

“Nice meeting you!”

“Come again!”

“He checked out half the library, he has to come back.”

Terrell stepped out from behind the counter and offered a hand. “I could help you carry that out?”

Jennifer smiled gratefully and shook her head. “I appreciate it, but I’ve got this.”

The librarian held his hand up in a no-problem gesture and stepped back. The other librarians continued to wave their farewells to Blackbird as Jennifer left. One of the younger librarians was crooning something about ‘those coat tails!’ when the door shut.

“Did you have fun?” Jennifer asked conversationally.

“Naturally, Madam. The library is a citadel of knowledge and learning! How can one not enjoy such a visit?” Jennifer chuckled, knowing full well the books weren’t the only thing Blackbird had been enjoying.

They drove in comfortable silence back to the little cabin. After hauling the books inside, Jennifer took some beans she’d been soaking in water off the shelf and transferred them to a pot to boil. While they cooked, Blackbird selected a fresh book from where Jennifer had arranged them on the shelf below his own and started reading. He’d lost interest in watching Jennifer cook shortly after the electricity had been turned on and the little camping stove put away.

Meanwhile Jennifer started the rice, cut and fried some veggies with part of a fajita spice packet, and divided the food into tortillas. Some burritos were topped with cheese and popped in the oven to broil, others wrapped in tin foil and tucked into the fridge for another day. Jennifer went to the trouble of mashing guacamole by hand -because it’s totally worth it- and poured salsa from a jar -because it’s just not worth it. She nearly smacked herself for almost forgetting the hot sauce, the set out the three condiments in spice bowls.

After pouring her glasses and filling Blackbird’s bottles, Jennifer took the burritos out of the oven and cut them diagonally before serving.

Blackbird came down promptly from his shelf. He gave the desk a scrutinizing once-over to ensure Jennifer had provided herself with both milk and water before maneuvering the first half of his burrito into a position where he could eat it with something resembling dignity.

His dignity didn’t last past the first bite.

Jennifer had barely started eating before she was distracted by the spectacle that was Blackbird destroying his burrito. She’d never really paid much attention to his sharp teeth beyond noticing they were typical of Fell variants, but now she saw they were clearly designed for slicing and tearing through tortillas, beans, and peppers.

“THIS IS REMARKABLE! TRULY A MASTERWORK!” Blackbird announced, eye lights shining like high beams on a truck as he returned to demolishing the first half of his burrito.

“Uh… thanks?” Jennifer finally remembered she had her own food to eat and hesitantly collected some salsa and guacamole onto her burrito before taking another bite.

Blackbird saw the movements and paused in his massacre to consider the same. He had little more than tortilla left at this point, so he tore this into three pieces and tried each of the condiments Jennifer had set out. He heartily approved of the guacamole and salsa, but the hot sauce nearly broke him. He was reaching to take a third handful of the stuff before he visibly stiffened. His eye lights dimmed either back to normal or possibly darker. Blue-purple marched over his skull and ever so slowly Blackbird glanced at Jennifer.

Jennifer allowed a small smile. “Good?” She asked.

Mute, Blackbird stood and walked stiffly back to the side of the plate he normally ate from. He fidgeted for a moment, then took a single bean from the second half of his burrito and ate it demurely, barely remembering to put his chin up and look arrogant.

The reaction was disappointing for Jennifer. While she hadn’t been expecting such an extreme response, this was basically what she wanted. She’d been cooking a wide variety of foods over the last few weeks trying to find a favorite for him. This was clearly the goal she’d set out for, but now he was uncomfortable and likely not enjoying the food as much as he should.

Jennifer left the desk to retrieve the hot sauce bottle. She poured a little more into the spice bowl, set the bottle on the desk and pushed the spice bowl toward Blackbird. “I think we could have these again. Maybe add them to the regular menu. Would that be okay?”

Still blushing, Blackbird finished his bean and made a show of brushing his hands tidily. “Yes, Madam. I believe that would be suitable.”

“Good.” Jennifer said. She took her own burrito and smothered it in salsa and guacamole before taking a huge, messy bite. Mouth full, salsa and avocado paste smeared at the corners of her mouth, she added, “Because burritos are awesome!”

Blackbird blinked at her, momentarily stunned into gaping with open mouth shock. After he remembered himself again. Instead of scolding Jennifer for being messy _and_ rude, he cackled, “Mweh-heh!” and went ahead to smother the second half of his burrito in enough hot sauce to make soup.

They both made a regular mess of themselves, but it was a happy mess.


	37. Days Go By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jennifer and Blackbird have another day requiring a detective to identify plot relevant details.

“Shit. How’d I forget?” Jennifer threw off the covers and climbed down from the loft. She hurried to the stove but stopped, frowning.

There was no burner light on. In turn, she put her hand over all three burners and then opened the oven door and looked inside, inhaling. The range and oven were cool to the touch.

The smell was gone.

Moments ago, the smoke had been thick enough to wake Jennifer from a dead sleep. Now it was completely gone. Jennifer frowned and looked around, sniffing help recall the scent. Acrid and chemical with hints of rubber and… plastic. The smell had been burnt plastics.

“No…” Jennifer hurried to her phone charger, but the smell didn’t return and the screen lit up to assure her that it was fully charged and still plugged in to a good power source. She went to her laptop, but that charging cord was also solid and the power light glowing a contented green.

Confused and dissatisfied, Jennifer climbed back up into the loft, missing the pair of eye lights that blinked at her curiously. She crawled back into bed, straightened the covers and rolled over to bury her face back in her pillow, sighing as she tried to relax back to sleep.

Oh.

Ever since she’d exiled the Gerson pillow for _that_ morning, Jennifer had been sleeping with the flat old pillow that still smelled faintly of campfire smoke. She must have picked up on that smell and her subconscious decided to have a mini nightmare, blowing the scent out of proportion.

Mystery solved, Jennifer rolled over again and tried to get back to sleep.

~*~*~

Thank goodness and Isaac for bloomers.

Jennifer had never been happier to see visitors leaving than when those two brats and their indolent mothers finally left. The older boy actually had the audacity to crawl under Jennifer’s hooped skirt to try and steal a peep. By the skin of her teeth, Jennifer managed to keep her cool. She turned the tables by crooning at the boy as if he were an innocent toddler, right down to booping his nose and calling him cute whenever he tried to get mouthy.

The child’s misery was delicious.

Jennifer finished the tour as usual and waited in the lobby while the two mothers and their two miscreants went into the gift shop. There was a lot of bickering and begging, and excited shouting when they saw Blackbird, but the group inevitably left the giftshop without purchasing anything. The pervert sneered and stuck his tongue out at Jennifer. She made as if to boop his nose again and he fled for dear life. Only when the door closed behind them did Jennifer relax, dropping her stupid grin and slumping as far as her corset allowed. She trudged into the giftshop lamenting, “Some days.”

Jacob grunted his agreement, leaning back from the counter and looking concerned toward one of the shelves.

“One of the kids make another grab for him?” Jennifer guessed. She wouldn’t put it past either of those boys.

“They tried, Madam.” Blackbird explained as he climbed back onto the counter. How he managed to get from the shelf to the countertop was one of those mysteries Jennifer had given up wondering about. “But it was that human woman who truly overstepped.” He sniffed and crossed his arms.

“Some guests.” Jacob grumbled, mimicking Jessica’s lament.

Jennifer sighed again, then considered the clock. Noon. She turned to her boss. “Can I offer you a burrito in these trying times?”

“Burrito?” Jacob perked.

With the benefit of homemade TexMex, the afternoon started on a better note than the morning. Blackbird destroyed his burrito with far more reserve and less sauce than previously, but still with enough obvious pleasure that it cheered both Jennifer and Jacob.

That afternoon, a young woman with a baby sling came in. She softly asked for the tour and Jacob obliged, giving his spiel in a low timber that seemed to rock museum and baby alike.

Jennifer and Blackbird read some more of Eight Fallen Children. They finished reading about the sixth fallen child, Sean. Sean’s journey through the Underground was different than the previous children and it perplexed Blackbird. The last page of the chapter depicted a sketch of Sean, done by the monster who turned him in to the Royal Guard. “Oh.” Jennifer said, looking at the boy’s smiling face, squinting through a pair of antique glasses. “Down Syndrome.”

“Excuse me?” Blackbird asked.

“It’s… well, it’s hard to describe, but some humans are born with features that make them all look a little like Sean here.” Jennifer tapped the sketch. “And they act a little differently than people who don’t look like that.”

“How so?”

Jennifer could only shake her head. “I’m afraid I haven’t really known anyone with Down Syndrome. I can’t tell you anything that wouldn’t amount to more than rumor.” Blackbird considered, then nodded his acceptance. Doubtless, their next trip to the library would include a book on the subject.

They’d barely started reading about the seventh child when footsteps on the stairs alerted them of the approaching end of the tour. Jennifer marked their spot in the book and slid it to the side as Jacob finished. There was a moment of quiet conversation in the lobby before the young mother came into the gift shop.

She and Jennifer exchanged quiet smiles. Jennifer nodded toward the little sleeping head poking from the sling and the mother gave a tired but proud smile in return. Silent reigned comfortably as the mother circled the gift shop, selecting three books and a post card. Jennifer muted the cash register and rang up the purchases while the mother whispered a very soft ‘hello’ to Blackbird, who returned the greeting with his well-practiced library hush. He looked curiously at the baby and the mother proudly explained, “Ten weeks.”

“Charming. Congratulations.” Blackbird said.

The infant began to stir, making low, irritable noises. Something hit the floor and Jennifer hurried around the counter to pick it up so the woman wouldn’t have to. She crouched, reaching for the pacifier when the silence was finally broken… by Jennifer’s pants. The tearing of cloth was the loudest sound in the museum since the mother had arrived.

Jennifer swallowed, hard, and retrieved the pacifier before standing. She sheepishly backed behind the counter and used a wet wipe to clean the pacifier before returning it. The mother was blushing as dark as Jennifer doubtlessly was. “Would you like a bag for your purchases?” Jennifer offered. She couldn’t quit keep her voice level or soothingly quiet.

The mother plugged the pacifier in, temporarily soothing the baby. “No, I’ll just carry them, thank you. And thank you.” She nodded toward her baby, then gathered her things and left.

Blackbird stood still on the counter, arms folded behind him, carefully not looking at Jennifer. She appreciated the gesture as it allowed her to dig through her backpack for a sweater to wrap around her waist and cover the tear.

Jacob had seen the woman leave looking uncomfortable and when he came into the giftshop he saw Jennifer and Blackbird looking discomfited. At the sight of obvious FEELINGS being involved, the curator promptly turned and walked out, only to return seconds later with a large bar of dark chocolate he placed on the checkout counter.

Jennifer looked at the chocolate bar, then at Jacob, glanced at Blackbird, then again looked at the chocolate bar and Jacob. “What?”

The older man cleared his throat and cautiously asked, “Are you feeling okay?”

A smile began twitching and pushing through Jennifer’s embarrassment as she realized what might be happening. “You thought I was upset and… you’re giving me chocolate to make it better?” Jacob grunted, shrugged. “Thank you, but I wasn’t upset. I just tore my pants picking something up.” Jennifer explained, patting her modesty sweater. “No emotional upset today, just a little trauma to my pride. Thank you for checking, though.”

Jacob started to flush, the most delicate of powdery pinks spreading over his nose and cheeks. “Oh. Good. Did you still want that?” He pointed at the candy.

Jessica snatched the chocolate up so fast both Jacob and Blackbird flinched. “No take-backsies.” Clutching the bar to her chest, she added a pointed, “Hiss!”

A few seconds of silence. Blackbird and Jacob exchanged a look. Blackbird covered his mouth with one hand. The two of them burst into laughter, and Jennifer joined them.

~*~*~

That evening, Jennifer confirmed the worst of her fears about the torn pants. It wasn’t a faulty seam, and she’d actually lost weight since buying these slacks. The seat had torn simply because the material was worn out. While Blackbird bathed, Jennifer went through all the clothes she kept in the winter pantry, confirming what she’d been willfully ignoring until then. Worn materials, some fraying seams, discolored and faded materials, keeping her clothes clean and tidy would only work for so long and that deadline was rapidly approaching. By now Jennifer was starting to build up her savings, but with winter looming and no replies on her job applications she was going to have to be careful.

Jennifer made a short list of things that would absolutely have to be replaced, starting with those slacks, and set the matter aside for the evening.

She and Blackbird continued reading about the Fallen Children. The seventh fallen child had been a horror. Among the last to fall, they matched no description of missing children and nobody ever learned their name. They’d emerged from the Ruins and killed the entire Snowden chapter of the Royal Guard. A retired veteran of the War finally subdued the child and delivered them to the king. New Home sent more sentries to reinforce the area’s Dog Guard, but there weren’t enough Royal Guards to spare and replace the dead.

And on that note, they finished their reading for the day. Blackbird was silent, as he often was when their reading gave him something to mull over. He’d speak up when he was ready to discuss it and -doubtless- a wonderful conversation would follow. Jennifer looked forward to it.

She put the book away, made sure her phone was charging, locked the front door with a pointed look at Blackbird who nodded his approval, then shut off the light.

Before going back to her loft, Jennifer paused and glanced at the ousted Gerson pillow, now lying on the bench looking forlorn. Jennifer was still mad at it, but she didn’t have any proof it had been the cause of _that_. On the other hand, she was reasonably sure the other pillow was responsible for the dream of acrid smoke.

Grumbling, Jennifer extended provisional forgiveness and grabbed the pillow. “Goodnight Blackbird.”

“Goodnight Madam.”


	38. Emergency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's three am and the phone rings...

“Ehngn-khuh… hmm?”

The phone rang again.

Jennifer managed to drag herself out of the loft without breaking anything. She grabbed her phone from where it was charging on the bench. The phone rang again while Jennifer struggled to solve the complicated puzzle on the screen. There was a green icon, a red icon, and the words ‘swipe to answer.’

The phone rang again as Jennifer failed to solve the puzzle. Finally, she swiped the green and held the phone to her ear, ready to curse a storm at whoever thought three in the morning was a good time to call. “yello’?”

“_Jennifer! You rent the Thompson place, right?”_

“Isaac?” Still half asleep, Jennifer looked around as if the tailor was in her cabin. Blackbird’s grouchy eye lights blinked back at her from the shadows of his shelf.

“_You’re at the Thompson place, West of town? It’s an emergency…turn left here…_”

Jennifer wasn't processing well, but ‘emergency’ sunk in and stuck. “Yes. Hank Thompson’s little cabin. Off county road 117. Um… there’s a wooden post with plastic numbers…” She tried to remember her own living address.

“_I know the place. Grab a robe or some pants dear, we’re almost there._”

The line went dead.

Blearily, Jennifer went to the front door and turned on the lights, squinting in pain as she bumbled with the lock and opened the door, then turned and tried to find something to throw on over her thin sleep shirt and pajama pants. Her robe was entirely too fluffy for an emergency, so she grabbed an oversized sweatshirt. Blackbird also dressed and was settling on Jennifer’s shoulder when the clearing flooded with headlights. Jennifer went out to meet them.

Isaac jumped out of the passenger side of his Honda, cradling a bundle to his chest while a young man Jennifer didn’t recognize stepped out of the driver’s side without killing the engine.

“Jennifer! Please! They’re hurt!” Isaac called. He was limping toward her and the driver's hand was wrapped in white gauze that practically glowed in the night. Clearly _someone_ was hurt.

“What happened?” Jennifer demanded, stepping further out then aside, waving for them to get inside.

“The 13th Protestant is burning.” Isaac explained.

“_WHAT?!_” Jennifer leaned out from the porch as if she could somehow see the miles through woods and half the town to the abandoned church.

“Please, dear, focus.” Isaac said, grabbing Jennifer by the arm and turning her to look at him. “She’s hurt. You’re the only person around for miles who knows anything about Bitties.”

“What?” Jennifer repeated, finally looking at what Isaac was holding. “Oh my god.”

Nested in someone’s singed clothing sat a Bitty. The new Bitty was nearly seven inches tall and barely dressed in scorched scraps of cloth. Between filthy scales, large patches of the Bitty had gone chalky white. “Is… is that a Fundyne?”

“Yes.” The driver said, taking a single step onto the porch. “Her name’s Scout. Can you help her?” He and Isaac were as dirty as the Fundyne with shiny red patches showing through in some places. They weren’t in good condition, but the Bitty was obviously worse. Helpless, Jennifer looked at Scout and tried to remember anything, _anything_ about Bitty first aid as a gentle night breeze stole some of the dust flaking off her scowling, pained face. She was panting, though from what Jennifer had read online, Fundynes usually never shut up.

“HP, um, we have to fix her HP and…” She’d never actually looked at first aid threads that didn’t concern Magical Exhaustion or BittyBones specifically. She didn’t know. She didn’t know and this Bitty was seriously injured and Isaac had come to her and there wasn’t a Healer for hundreds of miles and-

“Water.” Blackbird said. He stood on Jennifer’s shoulder and leapt down onto the cloth nest to crouch beside the other Bitty. Looking back at Jennifer he instructed. “Madam, fill the sink with cool water, enough for this monster to swim in.” Jennifer nodded and hurried to do as she was told. “Tailor! Proceed into the cabin! This calls for proper monster food!” Isaac did as he was told, following Blackbird’s directions to the appropriate bookshelf.

Blackbird jumped to his shelf and grabbed several of the monster candies, making short work of unwrapping them. “HUMAN!” He bellowed at the young man lurking uncertainly in the door. “COME INSIDE AND BE USEFUL!” The human also did as he was told and was soon cracking candies apart for Blackbird to start shoving the pieces in the Fundyne’s mouth. Scout grumbled but took the food until Jennifer announced the bath was ready. Isaac carried the Bitties into the bathroom without instruction, but Blackbird still had to bark at the other, “Hurry, human! She must be placed in water, immediately!” The young man didn’t hesitate again. He followed Isaac and used his unbandaged hand to help lower the injured Bitty into the water. He then kept his arm in the cold water to support the little fish monster. Jennifer stood out of the way, watching carefully but trying not to crowd around the sink.

The dust that had been flaking off the Bitty rose to the surface, clouding the water and causing Jennifer to gasp and Isaac to flinch. For a moment they both feared the worst, but the owner still had his hand on his Bitty and remained calm. Soon, the dust dissolved like sea foam and they could all see Scout. The burnt little monster hung in the water for several minutes as the humans held their collective breaths. Gradually, she began to move. Small motions that got her nowhere at first, then all at once she kicked and surfaced. Her human adjusted his hand so Scout could brace herself as she lifted her head above the water. Now clean and wet, most of her scales sparkled like sapphires and rubies, contrasting against the dull, dark navy patches where her injuries had been. The brilliant crest of crimson hair Fundynes were famous for was completely gone, burned away. “What is this stuff?” She asked, her voice still thick with a sludge of water and dust.

“Water from a nearby well.” Blackbird explained dismissively. He jumped from Issac’s arms to the drainage shelf and held out another piece of candy. Rather than needing to be force fed, Scout took the piece on her own and ate it. 

Blackbird prepared another piece as he lectured to the humans, “Fish monsters can recover from almost any injury, given enough clean water.” He gave Scout’s owner something not quite a sneer. “One would expect the human entrusted with their care to know that.”

The rest of Scout’s piece of monster candy bounced off Blackbird’s skull, earning her a scowl. “Lay off, brat! It’s not Pete’s fault he forgot. Everything was on fire!!”

“No, he’s right, I shouldn’t have panicked.” The young man -Pete- apologized. Scout frowned at him and looked around for something else to throw.

Jennifer spoke up. “It’s easy to forget something like that when you’re not on your own turf, even when things aren’t burning down around your ears.” Blackbird gave Jennifer a cool look as if refusing to be shocked at her betrayal. She was supposed to be on _his_ side, thank you very much. “Speaking of things burning down around ears, shouldn’t you two be thinking about hospitals?” She recalled something Isaac had said, “Wait, and you said the church is _still_ burning? Don’t you have to talk to the police or something?”

“My friends are still back there. They’ll explain everything the police.” Pete said.

Isaac nodded to Blackbird. “Truthfully, it was officer White who suggested we come here. His kids are big fans.”

“Officer White…” Blackbird asked, eye sockets narrowing. “June and Carter?

Isaac grinned, delighted and amazed. “Yes, precisely!”

“Ah yes. Quite well behaved, polite children.” Blackbird recalled.

Again, Jennifer could only marvel at Blackbird. June and Carter White? Had she toured someone with those names? Kids? By now most of the guests blended together and she’d never remember most of them. Blackbird, however, remembered them easily.

Nevermind, not important. The bandage around Pete’s hand was not only as filthy as the rest of him, but starting to spot through with yellow and red. Then there was Isaac’s concerning limp, not to forget how badly they both stank.

The two human men reeked of smoke. Harsh… acrid… smoke… With hints of burnt rubber and plastic.

Jennifer shivered.


	39. Fire Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn what happened and we see Bitties together.

The charred, melted remains of Scout’s clothes were dropped in the waste basket. The waste basket was immediately set outside.

Not that it helped much. The two men in the cabin still stank. Isaac’s clothes were scorched and Pete’s shirt had a patch melted to his back.

Once Scout finished her bath treatment and was given a washcloth to wrap up in, Jennifer had Pete take off his bandages to rinse under a cool trickle of water from the faucet. He hissed at the contact but endured. Meanwhile Jennifer pressed a soaked cloth to his back, trying to cool the burn through the melted plastic. “You have to go to the hospital.” Jennifer admonished.

“We both do.” Pete spoke through gritted teeth, trying to flex his fingers as some of the soot and filth were rinsed away. “Mr. Patterns tripped and rolled down the stairs outside the church, it’s why I had to drive.”

Scout cackled from the drainboard, barely bothering to hold the washcloth up. “Old man biffed it! Probably broke every bone in that leg and both hips! Because he’s OLD.”

“I can hear you.” Isaac called, irritably.

“Stop lyin’ OLD man! Everyone knows hearing’s the first to go!” Scout retorted. “Fuhuhu!”

Jennifer grimaced and leaned to the side so she could look out of the bathroom. Isaac now sat pouting on the bench with his leg carefully extended in front of him. Blackbird was on Isaac’s shoulder for the first time, standing so he could reach the tailor’s ear and cover a particularly nasty burn with gauze and tape.

Shutting off the water, Jennifer collected Scout before shepherding Pete out to the bench next to Isaac. Scout jumped onto Pete’s lap as soon as it was available, and Jennifer raided the first aid kit for more gauze to start wrapping his hand. “Okay, spill. What happened? Start before the fire.”

“I don’t know.” Pete said, a preamble rather than a statement of ignorance. “We were just doing the usual investigation. The whole night was completely uneventful. Sometime after two thirty the thermal reader in the basement spiked. Scout and I went to check on it and… well I forgot you’re supposed to check potentially hot door with the back of your hand?” He grimaced and flexed his fingers.

“Don’t move.” Jennifer admonished automatically, then stiffened. “Wait,” She gaped at the bandaged hand, then looked up at Pete in shock. “In the time it took you to notice the temperature spike and for you to walk to the basement it got that hot that fast?”

“Eh… yes and no.” Scout grumbled, not enjoying this story and staring intently at Pete’s hand as Jennifer wrapped it.

Pete shrugged and pushed forward with his recollection. “Yeah, so, ouch. Anyway, I ran back to the sanctuary where my PI group was set up? Told them to get out. They grabbed what they could -I know, I know, we’re not supposed to do that in a fire.”

“Pete told them to leave the junk.” Scout added.

“Well, yeah. So, they grabbed what they could of the equipment in the hall and made a run for it. We were outside when _someone-”_ here he affectionately tapped Scout in his lap. She grinned. “pointed out that we’d left the ‘old man’ asleep in the nursery.”

“That’s when Pete did the whole ‘hero’ shtick! Ran in shouting for the old man to wake up. Had to shake the _old geezer_ to get him moving. Fuhuhu!” Scout cackled.

Isaac looked embarrassed. “I took you for a light sleeper.” Jennifer told Isaac. He’d woken up easily enough when she called him a couple weeks past.

Isaac shrugged at her attention, any attempts at either flamboyance or playing the situation down gone. This point genuinely confused him. “I am and always have been. Lighter every year. During most ghost tours I hardly need more than a short nap. I don’t know what happened.” He accepted the cold pack Blackbird dragged out of the first aid kit, cracked it, shook it up, then settled it over his knee with a grimace.

“Regardless.” Pete said, pressing on yet again. “Mr. Patterns woke up and grabbed his phone. We tried to get out right away, but the smoke was too thick.” Isaac still looked embarrassed and puzzled. He shook his head as if the prospect of getting lost in the smoke also eluded his understanding. “The whole place was actually on fire before we found the door and got out. Mr. Patterns tripped and fell down the stairs. After we got him on his feet, one of my teammates saw my coat was on fire and ripped it off. He knocked Scout off as well and she actually got stuck in my coat! So, I dug her out of it.…” Pete grimaced and tilted his bandaged hand again. “It was still kind of on fire?” Scout remained silent but reached back and grabbed Pete’s shirt. Pete moved his free hand around her, not squeezing but creating a protective wall.

“Oh.” Jennifer said.

Isaac took up the story. “Our police and firefighters showed up shortly thereafter. Naturally, our medics are not yet trained in the care of injured Bitties. That was when Officer White remembered Blackbird and yourself.”

“Oh.” Jennifer said. She was still a little embarrassed that she couldn’t do much for them, but at least Blackbird had been able to help.

“Pete volunteered to drive because my leg wouldn’t let me operate the gas.” Isaac continued, then shot the younger man an annoyed look. “I didn’t realize he’d burned his hand until we were nearly here.” Pete shrugged. “We could have asked Officer White to drive us.” This time Pete tilted his head, acknowledging Isaac probably had the right idea.

“Speaking of which.” Blackbird announced. “I am sure Madam will insist on driving you humans to your hospital.”

“Damned straight.” Jennifer agreed immediately. Blackbird stiffened and narrowed his eye sockets at Jennifer. She sighed and held up an apologetic hand. “I mean, yes. I’ll drive and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” The tiny dictator nodded curt approval of her correction. Isaac chortled over the exchange.

“Alright! Let’s get going so those geeks can get Pete and Methuselah here patched up!” Scout leapt to her feet, though she kept one hand on Pete’s finger so he wouldn’t pull away.

Pete looked pained. “Uh, before that, actually… I’m sorry to trouble further you but…” He glanced down at Scout.

Scout frowned up at him. “What’s the problem, Pete?”

Jennifer glanced down as well and saw Scout had dropped her washcloth and was now standing stark naked. “Oh.” She quickly looked up at Pete. “Yeah, we’ll see what we can do.” She said, professional smile snapping into place but failing to disguise the blush starting to darken her cheeks.

Blackbird darted across the bench, scaled Pete’s leg, and grabbed the washcloth. He picked it up and threw it over the Fundyne. “Show some restraint! You are a guest in this house and I will not have you embarrassing Madam!” He scolded.

Oh, that didn’t actually help her embarrassment. Blushing harder, Jennifer stood and went to the winter pantry to try and find something to cover the tall Bitty with.

“GYAH!” Scout struggled with the washcloth until she found an edge and poked her head out. “What’s the big deal? Humans don’t care about our junk!”

Blackbird reached up and seized Scout by the face with his clawed phalanges, dragging her down to his level and hissing between serrated teeth, “It is about _respect_ you shameless fish! Madam shows you and I the same respect she would a person of her own species. I expect you to do the same to her, or more.” Blackbird then shoved the Fundyne away from him and leapt down from Pete’s leg to the bench before the human had a chance to intervene on the rough handling to his Bitty.

Scout had settled the washcloth around her more modestly and both Pete and Isaac were staring at Blackbird in apprehension when Jennifer came out of the winter pantry with her ruined trousers. “We could probably make her a robe or temporary T-shirt with some of this cloth.” She suggested.

“Excellent idea, Madam.” Blackbird said.

Jennifer looked between the four of them. Isaac, Pete, and Scout were all eyeing Blackbird. For someone who reveled in attention, Blackbird was acting just a little too uncaring. “What did I miss?”

“Nothin’.” Scout grumbled. “…Ma’am.”


	40. Trust, Respect, Worry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we go to the hospital, and do some learnin'.

“Seatbelts.” Jennifer reminded Isaac and Pete as she set her bag in the back of the car. Pete gave his shoulder strap a tug to show he was in compliance.

Isaac looked up from poking around in Jennifer’s sewing kit. “I don’t think that’s necessary dear, my leg…” He gestured pitifully to how it was propped up beside him on the back seat. Isaac’s knee had swollen while Scout and Pete were being tended. He hadn’t bothered to tell anyone he couldn’t bend it anymore until the last minute.

Jennifer scowled at Isaac. The fury in her eyes enough to set wayward houseplants ablaze and wild animals scurrying for safety. The early morning darkness didn’t help.

Isaac buckled his seatbelt.

Jennifer closed the back door and walked around the car to settle into the driver’s seat. Blackbird hopped off her shoulder and onto the center console while Jennifer set up the GPS and made sure everything was ready. She had her hand on the ignition when Isaac spoke up. “Excuse me, dear, I didn’t know you were interested in sewing. I would have been delighted to give you any advice, though I must say your stitching is splendid… scary good, even.”

“What?” Jennifer angled the rearview mirror so she could see Isaac. “I just mend things sometimes.” And her stitches were the stuff of nightmares. “What are you talking about?”

“You left your practice work in your sewing kit.” Isaac said, holding up a piece of cloth so Jennifer could see it.

“Eh?” Jennifer turned on the overhead light and reached back. Isaac handed her the cloth thing. It took her a minute to realize what Isaac had handed her used to be the excess from when she cut the two pillowcases down. All those scraps she’d forgotten about were now sewn neatly together with flat, strong seams. The edges were all precisely hemmed. The resulting single piece had been folded and stitched over and over, making a couple dozen little channels of cloth held with the tiniest, neatest, and straightest stitches Jennifer had seen in her life.

Tiny stitches.

Holding the thing, Jennifer glanced down at Blackbird. He was watching her with an inscrutable expression. Jennifer thought about it long and hard before tilting the cloth toward him, questioning. Blackbird nodded.

“Nice work.” She complimented, understating how genuinely impressed she felt.

Blackbird colored lightly, mandible chin held high.

Jennifer passed the sampler back to Isaac, “Try again, it’s not my work.” She told the tailor before adjusting her mirror again and starting the car. Light was beginning to warm the sky overhead, but the sun was still nearly an hour from rising. When Jennifer turned on the headlights bugs of all sizes were thrown into spotlight, dancing lazily.

“Blackbird?” Isaac asked, his confidence wavering. Today was the first time Blackbird had spoken to Isaac in nearly two months. He was under no delusion that orders given in an emergency meant Isaac was back in Blackbird’s good graces. “Are you interested in sewing?”

Blackbird sniffed irritably, not looking at the tailor.

Isaac slumped and turned his attention back to making Scout something to wear.

Still seated on the center console, Blackbird glanced over at Scout. She was pouting. Curled up in her washcloth with her back to Blackbird and watching the night through the passenger window. Blackbird considered, then stood. He walked to the rear facing edge of the console, then leapt onto the back seat, startling Isaac. While the human desperately pressed the ice pack on his knee in an attempt to ease the pain of flinching, Blackbird spoke clearly and without animosity. “Yes. I have been studying a little on the subject.” Isaac took a moment to overcome the pain and absorb the fact that Blackbird was speaking to him again, and then he positively glowed with pleasure. Jennifer couldn’t stop her own smile the rest of the trip as Isaac alternated between giving advise and heaping praise on Blackbird while they worked together.

By the time they arrived at the nearest hospital suitable for burn treatment, Scout was back on her human’s shoulder wearing a black long tunic, belted at the waist and trimmed with white thread. The new clothes cheered the Fundyne, which in turn cheered her human. The two were regaling the rest of the car with stories of their ghost hunting group’s less than spectral adventures while Jennifer navigated the complicated and nearly empty hospital parking lot. The sun was barely above the horizon and only the staff parking and a couple rows outside the ER were seriously occupied.

Jennifer chose a spot not far from the ER and announced, “I’ll just be a minute.” Before running inside.

She emerged a minute later with a wheelchair and a nurse whose back-up career option had clearly been NFL linebacker. The nurse easily loaded a blushing Isaac into the wheelchair while Jennifer grabbed her bag and allowed Blackbird to hop aboard. When Pete stepped out of the car the nurse looked him over with a judgmental eye. “Table for two?” She asked.

“Ah, yes.” Pete said sheepishly, holding his bandaged hand to his stomach. Both he and Isaac were sweating from pain and the dawn light highlighted how pale they’d become as the initial shock of injury wore off into the agonizing first stages of healing.

The nurse nodded and led the way inside, pushing Isaac’s chair. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you boys patched up. You need anything?” She asked Jennifer.

“I’m just the driver.” Jennifer assured her. “I’m not hurt.”

“Good. Policy is Bitties can’t go past the examining room without authorization. They can both stay with you.”

“Well?” Scout demanded. “How do I get authorized? I ain’t leavin’ Pete!”

“You’d have to be trained and certified. Are you a medical support Bitty?”

“Uh, sure!” Scout lied.

“And your registration number?”

“Twenty-three?”

“No dice.”

Hardly needing to inhale first; Scout bellowed complaints as they rolled into the ER. Another nurse squeaked and ran over with a second wheelchair, which Pete carefully lowered himself into. Pete and Isaac filled out paperwork while the nurses took pulses and blood pressure, looked in eyes, took temperatures, and made everyone say ‘ah’. Even Jennifer was checked and rewarded with a ‘visitor’ sticker to wear for the duration of her stay. Scout was still yelling about the unfairness of it all when Jennifer was pointed to a waiting room and Pete handed Scout to Jennifer.

The waiting room wasn’t fantastic. But then, they never are. At least none of the pleather was torn yet. The space was about twice the size of the cabin with four of those obligatory televisions, one was actually turned off. One of the mounted televisions was turned to children’s cartoons with the volume down low. The other two were muted with sound titles scrolling as rival news stations faced off. A handful of other people were already scattered in the area with their own ‘visitor’ stickers and any chance Jennifer had of slipping in unnoticed was ruined by the high decibel declarations of “…NO COMPASSION OR EMPATHY! HOW DO YOU EXPECT ANYONE TO GET BETTER WITHOUT THEIR FRIENDS! THIS PLACE IS A…” Jennifer tried to ignore both the cacophonous Bitty and the stares of the other humans as she checked the seats for comfort, then decided she was better off on the floor. She picked a corner under one of the muted television screens, a position that left her with only one other television in her line of sight to ignore.

Scout finally decided she was finished crying out against the oppression of the common man and watched Jennifer dig into her backpack, but promptly lost interest when the human only withdrew some books. “Oh… those.” She grunted, then looked around. “I’m gonna go watch some ‘toons.”

“Stay safe.” Jennifer warned. “I think I might be responsible for you?”

“Sure thing, ma’am.” Scout agreed, hopping down from Jennifer’s shoulder, to her lap, and finally across the floor to where the children’s corner was. Surprisingly, Scout made the effort to stay where Jennifer could see her.

“Madam?” Blackbird asked, hopping down from Jennifer’s shoulder as well, but content to stay in her lap.

“Yes, Blackbird?”

“I’m not sure I understand the process of healing for humans.” He said.

“That’s kind of complicated and I’m no doctor, but what did you want to know?”

Blackbird considered carefully and Jennifer recognized the start of a long, pleasant conversation ahead. “How does a burn heal for humans?”

“We’re kind of gooey. Are you sure you want to hear this?” Jennifer warned.

“Yes, Madam.” Blackbird confirmed.

“Okay… so… When a human gets burned… Um… Do you know what a cell is? Biologically speaking?” She found herself asking a lot of questions like this during their conversations, setting a foundation for what he knew.

“I’m afraid not.”

More often than not, the answer was ‘no’ Blackbird did not know. Blackbird clearly knew how to operate a smart phone or computer, but he lacked that well of odd knowledge and useless factoids most people picked up from surfing the internet. The rare ‘yes’ the topics were narrow. Like how he clearly understood Federal Bitty Trafficking Laws, but hadn’t known about endangered species.

Weird little dude.

Jennifer reached back into her bag and pulled out a notebook and pen to help her explanation. She spent more than an hour explaining what happened when a human was burned and how they healed after. Then she explained what it meant for Pete’s shirt to have melted onto his back like that. Next came Isaac’s leg and how the human knee was constructed -roughly. Blackbird taxed Jennifer’s knowledge of the human body to the very last.

Finally he chose mercy and they switched from Biology, to finished Eight Fallen Children together. Scout rejoined them for the story of how the Ambassador had fallen into the famous Mount Ebott as a child and freed the monster race from a barrier curse so old the human race had forgotten about it. After the ambassador had freed the monsters, Scout grew bored again and wandered back to the cartoons while Blackbird and Scout finished reading. The book ended on a triumphant note when monsters were granted full legal status by the UN. “What happened to the Ambassador?” Blackbird asked as Jennifer closed the book.

Jennifer pulled out her phone and held it so Blackbird could interact with the screen if he wanted while she looked up the information. “Looks like they retired. Just a couple years ago.” Now that she was reminded, Jennifer vaguely remembered seeing something about it in the news.

Blackbird frowned. “Why would they do that?”

“They’re pretty old.” Jennifer explained.

“Isaac and Jacob are also aged, yet they continue their occupations.”

“They could probably retire if they wanted.” Jennifer guessed, then chuckled. “And Ambassador Frisk’s a good twenty years older than those two. Maybe more.”

“So?” Blackbird pressed.

Jennifer gave Blackbird a bemused look. “Frisk’s probably too old to work. We get sick when we get old and by that age; most humans are already dead.”

Blackbird went very still.

Jennifer looked through the remaining books in her bag. “Did you want to try another monster history book or something else?” She asked.

Blackbird didn’t respond.

“Blackbird?” Jennifer asked. The Bitty didn’t move. “Blackbird?” When he still didn’t respond, Jennifer set her hands on either side of him in case he fell and shifted her legs to try and get a better look. “Hey, Blackbird? What’s the matter?”

Blackbird flinched, then vigorously rubbed his face before looking at Jennifer. “I, uh, my apologies, Madam. Wool gathering. You were saying?”

Jennifer frowned at the Bitty, worried. Blackbird didn’t usually space out like that, he looked and acted much differently when he was thinking. But they’d developed a good long habit of not asking each other too many questions. “Did you want to read another book or…?” She offered.

“Ah, yes. Um… just a moment, if you don’t mind. I would like to stretch my legs.”

Jennifer moved her hands so Blackbird could climb down, watching as he started marching around the waiting room. He usually took time to explore a new place like he already owned it, but today it felt forced. Jennifer didn’t like it but, again, she didn’t know how to ask.

That bothered her more than it used to.


	41. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what's worse than waiting rooms?  
Waiting rooms with someone chatty.

_…worry … worry … worry…_

Blackbird no longer required physical proximity to feel Madam’s soul. Concern leaked through their bond in a steady drip. He should…do… something. Something to assure his human he was well and perfectly capable of dealing with the knowledge that his human and perhaps all other humans did not expect to life eighty years.

Eighty! Madam said the curator and the tailor could retire and spend twenty years growing increasingly sick and weak! It took two decades for a human to physically mature! And healing from injuries required weeks or even months regardless of their HP! It was absurd! Utterly absurd!

And why was Blackbird of all monsters perturbed by this? Death wasn’t a new concept to him! It was engraved in his face and chaffed into his bones. Why should he be bothered when Madam has more years left in her natural, healthy lifespan than Blackbird has lived? Yet here he was, covering that pedantic old pacing habit by scouting every inch of floor space allotted to humans who were not themselves ill or sick.

Beneath a double row of chairs where the humans couldn’t see him, Blackbird stopped and ran his hands over his skull, feeling the scrape of his fingers over the plates and seams.

Blackbird was _not _pacing. Pacing was the response of a caged animal to being helpless. Blackbird was free. Blackbird had chosen a better human. Blackbird’s human left doors open for him -to the point of excess. Blackbird’s human gave him options, variety, _books_, conversation… and a steady drip of worry.

Eighty years. Perhaps. So many of those years gone before he met them, so many years that would be spent Falling Down… Blackbird had no grounds to complain about _only_ having more years than he’d lived thus far. It was the whining of a spoiled child to have more than they needed and still throw a tantrum for more.<strike></strike>

“Hey punk, you don’t look so good.”

Blackbird jolted, barely stopping his bones from clacking and unable to completely stop his magic from sparking.

“Whoah! I come in peace and stuff, ‘kay?” The Fundyne held her hands up, eying the fading points of potential magic above his skull with barely suppressed fear. As was right. Blackbird was worthy of fear.

“What is it you want?” Blackbird demanded. “Did you finally realize how inane cable programming is?”

The Fundyne snorted, amused. “Whatever dude. Listen, your human’s been pretending to read for the last -like- ten minutes? You did something to make her mad? Or are she and the old man related or what?”

Blackbird looked over. Madam’s legs could be seen where she was sitting in the same position she’d been when he began his patrol. He could see her book in her lap, but she never turned the page.

… _worry… worry… worry…_

Blackbird didn’t bother responding to the Fundyne and instead marched directly back to his human.

Madam looked up from her book the moment Blackbird stepped out into view. She looked him over carefully with a neutral expression, unaware of the filament bonding the two of them giving her strongest feelings away.

…. _worry…relief…worry…_

He would have to be more careful not to give his human cause for alarm in the future.

Blackbird returned to Madam’s side and climbed her pant leg. “My apologies, Madam. I was abrupt and somewhat rude in taking my leave.”

The worry eased some but didn’t stop. “Not at all.” Madam dismissed the rudeness without pressing Blackbird for more information. Blackbird noticed her doing that a great deal. There would be a flare of concern or curiosity through their link, strong enough for Blackbird to know it was directed toward him, but she wouldn’t ask or do anything. Sometimes this would follow with her researching information on her phone, others she would just let the curiosity or worry sit until it faded on its own.

Perhaps… he might offer something to assuage those feelings? Their conversations were always enlightening and pleasant. It would stand to reason that a deeper subject would likewise prove beneficial, if not in the same way.

“Hey! Are those Bitties?”

Madam flinched, her surprise painfully obvious both through the link, and the fact that Blackbird was nearly thrown from his seat.

A human child dragged his parent over by the hand. Blackbird recoiled, but the Fundyne jogged toward the child. “Hey kid! Yeah! How you doin’?”

The child’s mother looked apologetic. “Be careful.” She warned the child. “Don’t hurt them.”

“I won’t.”

“NAH! She won’t hurt us!” The Fundyne cackled. She actually reached up and encouraged the child to lift her. Clearly, that monster had no dignity whatsoever.

“Sammie! You should ask first!” The mother admonished.

“It’s alright. Scout was pretty clear she wanted to be picked up.” Madam explained, assuming the mother hadn’t seen.

The woman huffed. “They should still ask you. You are their owner, right?”

A spark of confusion/concern as always when someone asked if she owned Blackbird, then a flicker of amusement. “No, I’m just kind of babysitting.” Blackbird solidly refused to accept such a disparagement on his character. She was referring to the Fundyne.

“Oh…” The mother glanced over her shoulder toward where the hospital staff were bustling around with folders, equipment, and a few patients. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“I don’t think so.” Jennifer assured her. “And likewise.”

The mother smiled at her, “My oldest daughter having contractions.” She winked, “Braxton Hicks, but what do I know? I’ve only had five pregnancies!”

A warm glow. “Well, in that case; congratulations! Both on the kids and the upcoming grandbaby!”

“Thank you.”

The child tugged on their mother’s shirt. “Mom, we’re going to watch TV.” They announced. By how the Fundyne was perched on their head, playing with their hair.

“Stay where I can see you!” The mother settled into a chair facing the corner Madam had settled in and started chatting, filling the time with a shocking number of worthless subjects from the weather to funny things they’d seen on the internet.

Blackbird accepted Madam’s silent offer to use her phone while she conversed. He was displeased that their conversation would have to be put off, but this likely wasn’t the setting for it. It was a pity. Yes. The conversation he’d planned. That was what bothered him…

And if the human mother couldn’t recognize what a privilege it was to be graced with Blackbird’s presence it was her own misfortune. Some humans were just too blind to see true greatness.

..._patience...patience...amused... patience..._


	42. Life, the Universe, and Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackbird didn't forget. Blackbird never forgets... unless it suits him.

Pete’s Paranormal Investigations team didn’t take his return well.

Isaac and his leg brace needing Jacob and Jennifer to help him move from the car to a wheelchair alarmed them. Scout was in good spirits, but her fresh scars and loss of her hair startled them. Pete’s torso being wrapped completely in gauze to protect the bulky bandage on his back, the sling protecting his hand, and a bandage on his face set their giant, powerfully built team manager into tears.

“I’m so sorry! I thought it would be cool! I saw the footage and I thought another Bitty would cause similar readings!” He babbled. “I was so stupid! I’m so sorry!”

“Come on, big guy! You’re breakin’ my heart here!” Scout patted the guy awkwardly on the forehead as he held her up to his face. “It was a good idea!”

“I nearly got you killed.” He whimpered, sniffling.

“Garret, if you don’t stop blubbering; I will use Mr. Pattern’s wheelchair to run over your foot.” Pete threatened. “It’s all I can reach, anyway.”

“What footage?” Jennifer asked. “Why did you think a Bitty would get you readings?”

The only young lady in their group pointed to Jennifer’s shoulder where Blackbird sat before explaining, “The footage from the lock-in you two participated in. The readings indicated high activity, but after you left all the readings went dead. It’s gotten a lot of attention in paranormal research circles and there’s speculation the presence of a Bitty at the site might have been a triggering factor. Garret wanted to try and replicate it but…” She trailed off, glancing at Pete and grimacing before offering Jennifer a helpless shrug.

Blackbird shook his skull and tsked at the human’s silly logic. “Madam and I left at the same time. It wasn’t me the malintent was interested in.”

“What?” Jennifer said.

“What?” Isaac and Jacob echoed.

“Wait, what? How do you know that?” Garret asked.

Still held near the big man’s cheek, Scout rolled her eyes. “Duh, the spooky shit barely noticed me. It was pissed at the old man, though. That’s why it tried to kill him in his sleep.”

“What?!” Jennifer and Isaac repeated. Pete and his team were struck dumb, staring at Scout with new eyes.

“What, exactly, do you mean by ‘kill him in his sleep’?” Jacob’s tone was low, practically digging up the museum parking lot., yet deceptively calm.

“When shit was going down, the spooky crap tried to make sure the old man kept snoring. Good thing Pete’s not afraid to hit an old man!”

Jacob went very still, save for an eyelid that twitched compulsively. Garret was nearly half a foot taller than Jacob, easily had seventy-five pounds on him, and was several decades younger. Garret was smart enough to make no sudden movements as he edged away from the museum curator.

Jennifer clasped her hands in front of her. She wasn’t sure how much of what she was hearing she fully believed, but the fact that _literal magic monsters_ were saying this made a compelling argument. It also made her very, very glad the building was gone and nobody would be doing any more night tours in the 13th Protestant.

Isaac held up a hand. “I don’t understand. I’ve been chaperoning these things for years. Nothing has ever happened before. Why now?”

“Eh-eh.” Scout shrugged, dismissive of the question and her ignorance. “I don’t frickin’ know! We didn’t exactly chat over tea.” Blackbird tilted his skull, acknowledging the truth of the statement. The humans exchanged various glances, not happy with the unsolved mystery.

After that, there really wasn’t much to say, except ‘goodbye’. Pete’s group had what was left of their equipment packed, it was just a matter of getting Pete settled in a seat that didn’t hurt on his back. When they’d gone, Jennifer offered to take over at the museum for the rest of the day, allowing Jacob to take Isaac home, but the brothers refused. “Go home, get some sleep.” Jacob ordered.

“Don’t worry about me, dear.” Isaac assured Jennifer, “I’m still feeling good from the hospital medication. I’m taking advantage of that to get my affairs in order before taking a week’s convalescent leave.”

“TWO weeks.” Jacob insisted. Isaac pouted. They were still bickering when Jennifer relented and climbed back into her car. It smelled unpleasantly of burnt things.

When she passed through main street, Jennifer couldn’t help slowing down when they passed where the church formerly stood. Blackbird climbed up to get a look for himself but there wasn’t much to see. Two fire trucks and a police car remained in the parking lot. Firefighters still eyed the smoking ruin with hose at the ready. The juxtaposition between the church they were used to seeing and the remains was jarring. Three almost-familiar corners still stood, white paint streaked with blackest soot that ran like mascara from the dousing required to put the fire out. Everything else was obscured by the thick black and grey smoke lingering over the area.

Jennifer tried to get her eyeful without slowing down too much, but the cars behind her were even more interested in rubber necking and unbothered by her quick glance.

The rest of the drive back home was quiet and somber.

At the clearing, Jennifer left the car windows half open to let it air. She brought Blackbird and her things inside, then opted to store her sewing kit in the winter pantry instead of under the heavy bench seat. That uselessly logical part of her brain stalled. How had Blackbird gotten into…

Jennifer almost immediately put her hands up, dismissing the question before it even formed. _Ma-agic_.

She then set to work on lunch… except they’d missed breakfast so brunch? Brunch it is. Jennifer made an Americanized version of Japanese Omorice … which in turn was a Japanified version of omelets. International cross-cultural exchange for the win. After cooking the mixed rice and omelets, she dished up the two plates and on a whim she doodled a stick person with a top hat with the hot sauce for Blackbird and a mostly tidy spiral on her own in ketchup.

She set the plates on the desk and poured milk and water for them both -Jennifer didn’t want another lecture from Blackbird on the evils of dehydration and the glories of milk.

The silence they ate with wasn’t uncommon or tense, but it was heavy with exhaustion. Jennifer wanted to just crawl into bed and nap, but a nap would make it harder to sleep tonight.

Jennifer figured it would be better to find something active to do this afternoon, help stay awake and sleep more solidly tonight. The clearing around the cabin was overgrown. It wouldn’t be a ‘clearing’ for much longer at this rate and driving her car in circles around the house wasn’t going to work for much longer -it was a miracle nobody had gotten killed tripping through the weeds this morning. The scythe was still in the winter pantry and she had that wet stone her father gave her in high school…

“Madam?”

Jennifer pulled from her thoughts to give Blackbird her full attention. “Hm? Yes Blackbird?”

“Humans…” Blackbird had a pea in his hands and was turning it at he searched for the words. He wore the captain’s uniform today, minus the coat. A. Door. Able.

Whatever was on Blackbird’s mind, he straightened a little as his face colored. “Ah, that is, as I was saying!” Okay, he was still a weird little dude, but an adorably cute weird little dude. He held a fist to his teeth and made a throat clearing noise, which was beyond perplexing. “As I was saying.” Blackbird repeated more firmly. “After our reading earlier, you stated that the Human Ambassador of Monsters was older than most humans expect to live. This is true?”

Jennifer recalled the conversation. “Oh, yeah. Frisk is a little over eighty. I think the current life expectancy is seventy-eight? So, yeah. Frisk is pretty old for a human. I imagine they’ll live a little longer, though.” Ambassador Frisk had received mostly magical healing since they were, like, seven or something. With that kind of health plan, Jennifer wouldn’t be surprised if they lived to a hundred or more.

“Only seventy-eight years? Humans… you accept this?” Blackbird sounded cautious, an unusual tone from him.

Jennifer’s fork was still in her mouth as she tried to understand the question. She slowly removed the fork and carefully swallowed her food. “Blackbird, are you trying to talk to me about dying?”

Blackbird turned the pea in his hands again, but looked steadily at Jennifer. “Yes, Madam.”

“Huh.” Well then. Jennifer put her fork down, then picked it up again. “That’s not really great dinner conversation… or lunch…” Or brunch. Whatever. “How about we finish up here, then go out on the porch? Death is… wow, that’s heavy stuff.”

The set of Blackbird’s shoulders relaxed, releasing a tension Jennifer didn’t remember when he picked up. “Of course, Madam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Eh, I don’t know.” Dang that just sits there like an ugly plot hole. The following doesn’t contain spoilers, just a rehashing of logic to prove I have a plan!  
Jacob has tried to allow previous interns to chaperone the night tours with no success. Something scared them all. Jennifer has two differences from the other interns; she is older, and Blackbird. Blackbird’s fear caused Jennifer to leave though she was not scared.  
Isaac replaced Jennifer. A few days or weeks later (timeline’s fudgy right now) the building burns to the ground with Isaac very nearly inside and Scout reports the ‘spooky shit’ was pissed at him.  
*points* See? That’s -like- 12% of a plan!
> 
> I also apologize for posting this a smidgeon late. I got bit by a plot bunny and it was hard editing this more serious chapter when I really want to get on the outline for the new story. You may be pleased to hear it’s another Bitty story… so far with 300% more Bitties. Might be my NaNoWriMo project for this year.


	43. Human Souls Persist After Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackbird and Madam have that deathly conversation.
> 
> Seriously; talk of death and mortality ahead.

A zephyr passed through the clearing, setting green leaves and browning grass rustling with a sound like lakeshore waves. It brought the scents of high summer, underlaid with traces of distant smoke. Somewhere nearby a flying beetle buzzed. Further, a bird chirped contentedly. Bright sunlight poured from a cloudless sky of palest blue, heating the air and dazzling the eye.

Blackbird and Madam sat a short distance apart on the wooden porch, taking in the summer afternoon.

Blackbird chose to sit alone rather than positioned on Madam’s shoulder or leg with regards to the seriousness of their chosen topic of conversation. The decision had nothing to do with the fact that Madam radiated heat like a furnace. Skeletons aren’t as bothered by temperatures so Blackbird was perfectly fine. He only fanned himself with the slouch hat for the aesthetic.

“What did you want to know?” Madam asked, bringing them to the reason for sitting on the porch without the benefit of their usual book to compliment the fine summer day.

“Humans live less than eighty years.” Blackbird reminded her.

“Usually.”

Blackbird tried to form the words, to ask the questions without being rude but… “I do not understand how humans can be comfortable with such a short lifespan.”

"We're not." Madam replied immediately, not hesitating to choose her first words. She turned away from the meadow and looked carefully at Blackbird. "We hate it. A lot of our poetry and literature -from the oldest story I know of to my favorite poem- is about how much we don’t want to die. You saw the size of that hospital we took Isaac too? It’s just one minor piece of an extensive network that stretches across the entire planet, trying to help us live a little longer.” The human looked out over the meadow again. Something cold dripped through their bond with the tang of …_fear…grief…_ She inhaled sharply and blinked rapidly for a moment, suppressing it before Blackbird could examine the complicated feelings. As a human she couldn't know about the bond, so it had to be herself Madam was hiding these emotions from.

Blackbird took her response, both her words and that thin drop of emotion, and tested them against his own experiences and what he’d thought was true. “I don’t understand.” Madam didn’t suppress her confusion, but she did hold her tongue and waited patiently for Blackbird to continue. “Humans are mortal with such short life spans. Humans fear and fight death, and yet they also spread it so easily.”

Madam grimaced guiltily, which made absolutely no sense. Blackbird hadn’t known her long but he would confidently assert his human had never harmed, much less killed another. “We are pretty confusing, aren’t we?” It was rhetorical but as Blackbird had just been thinking that he nodded. “I don’t know. It’s one of those things we’ve tried and tried to figure out but we don’t know. War, crime, even suicide. I don’t know.” Madam drew one leg from where it had been dangling over the edge of the porch and wrapped her arms around the knee as she stared out over the field again, not seeing.

She smiled a little, but the smile was bitter. “You’re right though. I should be more careful locking the door. But I don’t always remember unless you remind me.”

“You never remember, Madam.” He scolded. She laughed. Blackbird allowed a moment’s pride for her amusement, even as he reconsidered.

She left the door open though she knew the dangers. She took pleasure teaching a history filled with war, though she clearly didn’t like the idea of war. Madam said all humans fear death, yet the human, Pete, had returned to a burning building to save an old man, then furthered his own injuries to rescue a monster is similar danger. The curator was alarmed at the sight of a human woman in emotional distress, despite his LV.

“It’s as if humans are defined by their contradictions.” Blackbird said.

Madam hummed thoughtfully, then chortled. “Maybe we are.” She agreed.

“But you cannot ignore death constantly.” He continued, chasing a thread that remained unwoven. This was the crux of it. How did humans manage the awareness of their mortality? <strike>How would he?</strike>

“Certainly not.” Madam agreed. …_heaviness… grief…_ and those, too, were pushed aside.

Blackbird considered carefully, feeling he was near a sharp edge in the conversation. He wanted to continue, he wanted to learn more, but he didn’t particularly like those fleeting moments of pain.

Ah. So that was it. That was how humans dealt with this -treat it as an object too hot to touch without getting burned. Layers of protection were necessary. Both to deal with their mortality, and to protect each other. Which is what he would do, now. “Poetry and literature.” Those were satisfactory layers. “You said the oldest story you know of dealt with humans not wanting to die?”

Madam nodded, some of the tension that had seeped into her posture eased. “The Epic of Gilgamesh. It’s beautiful, even though so many parts are still missing. Probably permanently lost to history.” Blackbird nodded, remembering the title. He would look for it at the library, or on Madam’s phone. However, as much as he enjoyed discussing literature with Madam, he did not wish to continue that thread currently.

A beetle flew crackling out of the grass and crashed into Madam’s leg. She jumped, then snickered and brushed the insect off back onto the dirt.

Blackbird didn’t want to upset her again, there was no cause for that, but he did want to learn more. Always more. He’d never been able to satisfy his curiosity, but before he’d escaped his legal owners this wish to know had been maddeningly blocked. Now that he could read and learn all he wanted for the first time in his life, the desire only seemed to grow. And yet, here he was with a human who would answer nearly any question he put before her to the best of her ability, and suddenly there were so many questions he did _not_ want to ask. Anything that would cause that grief to leak out of her carefully constructed layers, for example.

He tried to find a way around it. To make the questions less personal, yet to still close enough to draw his human in as part of the answer. His curiosity did extend to Madam, after all.

And perhaps… “What is the purpose of a church?”

“What?” Madam blinked at him. Her thoughts and expectations, whatever they were, had not been along those lines.

“A human church.” Blackbird repeated. “I understand they often are built near human burial grounds, cemeteries. And they certainly aren’t intended to house malevolent arsonist energies. What is the purpose of a church?”

“Oh… no. Definitely not built to be burned.” Madam continued to blink as she thought through her answer. “Wow, that’s another big question. You’re on a roll today.”

Blackbird dismissed the praise. He was a monster of high thought, of course ‘big questions’ would be asked.

Madam lowered her leg and inhaled deeply, leaning against a pillar supporting the porch as she searched for the correct words. “You’re intentionally leading this from the previous conversation, aren’t you?”

“Naturally.” Blackbird confirmed.

Madam nodded. “Okay. The purpose for a church -any church. Be it one less haunted than the 13th Protestant or like the synagogue on Covenant Street or a temple or a mosque. The purpose of a church is to provide a place for humans to go and try to find answers to the big questions. Really big. Why do we have to die? What happens to us when we die? Is there anything after we die? What would that be like? Also, there are questions of meaning. Whether we think we’ll continue after we die or not, we also want our lives to mean something. Why are we here? Why do we exist? For millennia humans thought we were the only creatures on or off the earth who could really think. We wanted a ‘why’ answer for that.”

Madam crossed and uncrossed her arms, shifting a little more against the pillar. Not because she was uncomfortable, but because she was settling in to talk a lot.

Blackbird nodded to show he was listening, and suppressed the urge to grin, hiding how much he was anticipating this conversation.


	44. Brake Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days pass and nothing much ACTUALLY happens... kind of.

The streetlights flickered on over the library parking lot as Terrell handed Jennifer the cotton bag stuffed to the brim with books, and two others beside that wouldn’t fit. Jennifer glanced curiously at the titles; Bhagavad Gita and Man’s Search for Meaning.

Oh boy.

It had been three days since the 13th Protestant Church of Hobbler had burned. Three days of Jennifer talking, and talking, and talking. Every time she thought she’d surely said enough, Blackbird would ask more questions and she’d get carried away answering. When she started thinking she needed to just shut up, Blackbird would ask another question. Finally, in the middle of a tour no less, Jennifer’s voice had started shaking and threatened to give out on her.

She immediately decided to take Blackbird back to the library after work and more or less dropped him on the librarians. Though they were delighted to see the Bitty again, after helping Blackbird find all the books and doubtlessly answering an endless litany of questions, Terrell was looking a bit harried when he held his hand up to help Blackbird move between shoulders.

“Find anything helpful?” Jennifer asked.

“It’s a start, Madam.” Blackbird replied.

Oh boy.

“Thanks for helping him.” Jennifer told Terrell.

Though tired, the librarian’s smile was genuine. “No problem. Patrons like him are the best part of my job.” Blackbird preened at the praise.

Jennifer took the book bag and waved farewell to Terrell as she returned to her car.

Normally, Blackbird sat in the passenger seat and they would converse a little here and there, but either he’d picked up on Jennifer’s sore throat or his curiosity was getting the best of him. Blackbird chose to keep “Man’s Search For Meaning” on the seat with him and read while Jennifer drove. Jennifer nearly turned the cabin light on for him before remembering that he really didn’t need it.

Thrush and Hobbler were very close to each other, as far as the midwestern states are concerned; about twenty-five minutes apart by way of a scenic, three lane highway. Jennifer enjoyed the drive, possibly even more as the even twilight faded and the woods grew darker.

Jennifer was humming low under her breath as they passed Hobbler’s functional motel -where she’d first been assaulted by and met Blackbird. Shortly after was the prettily painted wooden “Welcome to Hobbler” sign. The speed limit dropped from 55 to 35 miles and Jennifer waved to the officer parked beside the city speed limit sign, where the lanes narrowed and became Main Street. Past some homes, a precious stones shop, the sturdy Barber Shop and even City Hall and the Hotel Museum itself, Jennifer steered through the town.

Being so relaxed made the jump scare twice as bad when something ran out onto the street in front of her.

Jennifer yelped, flinching before she slammed on the brakes, expecting to hear the thump. Even at 34 miles an hour her car was enough to kill somebody’s dog. Blackbird also yelped as the sudden stop sent him and his book sliding forward, out of the passenger seat and onto the floor beneath.

Throwing the car into park, Jennifer leaned over the console to check on him. “Blackbird, are you okay?”

“I am unharmed, Madam. What happened?” Blackbird snapped through gritted teeth as he struggled to untangle himself from the library book without potentially tearing the pages further.

“Something on the road.” Jennifer replied, offering her hand. “I need to check that I didn’t hit anything.” Blackbird accepted the hand, climbing onto her shoulder as Jennifer unbuckled and opened the door to step out. The car dinged at her irritably for leaving the lights on and her keys in the ignition, but she ignored it.

Thankfully, and probably not too surprising, there wasn’t a bloody corpse anywhere. No dog, no kids, not even a ball jammed in the undercarriage. “What was it you saw?” Blackbird questioned, his eye lights sweeping under the vehicle when Jennifer practically lay down to check.

“Something grey and fast. Big dog, I think.” Jennifer answered.

“Well. It isn’t here now.” Blackbird concluded sternly. “Get off the ground. We should be off.”

Jennifer was too preoccupied with what had nearly happened to be annoyed or amused at his bossiness. She stood, absently making sure Blackbird was secure on her shoulder again even as she looked around, just in case whatever it was had limped off and collapsed or something. It wasn’t until then she realized their sudden, unexpected stop had taken place right in front of the ruins of the 13th Protestant Church.

There really wasn’t a good reason for Jennifer to shiver, but she did. And she hurried to get into the car, close the door, and lock up. If Blackbird noticed she’d allowed herself to be spooked, he didn’t say anything. Nor did he comment when Jennifer felt the need to check the -empty back seat before restarting the engine.

He again refrained from commenting when she adjusted the mirror to look again halfway home.

On the drive to Hobbler Jennifer had enjoyed the almost-spooky atmosphere of the woods. Now she felt herself very much unappreciative of the view. When they returned to the clearing, Jennifer was quick to gather up the books and head inside, locking the door behind her immediately. When she remembered her own bag was still in the car, Jennifer decided it would be fine for the night. No need to make a second trip.


	45. Runaway Tailor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another day at the museum.
> 
> Did you know that in addition to eagle feathers and other parts of endangered or protected animals, museum archives may typically house illegal drugs, sensitive explosives, environmentally hazardous chemicals, spontaneously combusting film, a variety of poisons, human remains, and virulent, highly deadly, infectious disease pathogens such as tuberculosis?
> 
> Night at the Museum, eat your heart out.

“…one more word out of you, Thompson, and I will shove that hundred-year-old _laudanum_ bottle where the sun don’t shine and kick it to pieces!” The DEA agent physically dragged her partner out of the museum.

When the front door finally shut, Jennifer slumped over the giftshop counter, exhaling the tension and irritation she’d barely been holding back throughout the inspection. She took deep breathes and let Blackbird’s gentle reassurances and demeanor act as a balm to sooth her frazzled nerves.

“THAT UNPROFESSIONAL, ASININE BUREAUCRATIC TOOL WITH DELUSIONS OF SIGNIFICANCE WOULD PROVE AN INSUFFERABLE DESPOT SHOULD HE BE GRANTED A SINGLE GRAIN OF ACTUAL POWER! HOW DARE HE TREAT YOU IN SUCH A MANNER! IF HIS HANDLER DOES NOT SUFFIENTLY PUNISH HIS IMPUDENCE AND UTTER STUPIDITY I WOULD BE HAPPY TO DEMONSTRATE! OF ALL THE MISERABLE PERFORMANCES IT HAS BEEN MY DISPLEASURE TO WITNESS, THIS NOTEWORTHY FIASCO MAY BE THE PENULTIMATE! COMPOUNDED WITH SUCH DISPLAYS OF IGNORANCE…!”

Jennifer propped her chin on the palm of her hand and listened to the Bitty’s tirade, nodding occasionally to spur him on. He punctuated every sentence with at least one stomp and made slashing movements with his hands as if to cut down the sheer stupidity and rudeness they’d just been subjected to. Surprisingly, Blackbird’s ranting really was relaxing. Almost as good as being the one screaming herself… probably because he was much more articulate than Jennifer would be. Blackbird’s harangue against the DEA agent lasted nearly twice as long as the agent had been in the actual building, and Jennifer enjoyed every minute of it.

“…CERTAINLY FILE A COMPLAINT OF SOME FORM WHICH WOULD PERMANANLY TARNISH HIS RECORD. IT WOULD BE THE LEAST HE DESERVES!” Blackbird finally finished. Despite the extraordinary length and volume of the diatribe, the huff Blackbird released once he’d finished was certainly of irritation rather than shortness of breath.

His censure of the agent ended so abruptly it took Jennifer a moment to realize that last part was for her benefit. “Oh, uh… Maybe. I’ll discuss it with Jacob, he’s probably still suffering.”

The look Blackbird cast in the general direction of City Hall’s basement was one of a soldier learning his allies were still in the heat battle.

Jennifer shook her head, then reached behind the counter for the wall duster, resuming her assault on webs spiders had smuggled into the hotel. Blackbird returned to his books while Jennifer circled every floor of the hotel sweeping the walls and corners.

She was getting in the nooks and crannies of the check-in desk when Jacob finally came in. He closed the door behind him, turned, and leaned back against it, puffing out a great breath of relief.

“New kid’s a real charmer, isn’t he?” Jennifer teased.

“He’s somethin’.” Jacob grunted irritably.

“Blackbird thinks we should file a complaint?”

“…hm…” Jacob pointedly did not say ‘no’ before stepping into the gift shop. Jennifer finished her cleaning before following him. The curator puttered around the cash register for a minute, then decided it was better to leave the thing alone overnight rather than giving it the excuse to crash again. He poked through the pile of books Blackbird had with him and grunted approval for the titles, tapping in particular Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations.

Oddly, Jacob then hung around with the air of wanting to say something. He loomed unintentionally over the Bitty and the intern, gathering his thoughts for several minutes before asking, “Have either of you seen Isaac? Or maybe texted?”

“No.” Blackbird replied without hesitation, going through the exercise of turning the page in his book. His boots might be different than what he used to wear with his leathers, but the sound of his steps on the countertop as he drew the page from one side to the other was still very much like a bird.

“Isn’t he supposed to be at home, resting?” Jennifer asked. “Knees are supposed to be really painful and finicky, right?”

Jacob nodded. “Yes. That’s the problem, though. It’s _Isaac_. He hasn’t been in all week, hasn’t invited himself into my house, and I haven’t received any complaints about him from the other museums he works with.”

Jennifer and Blackbird exchanged a look -Jennifer’s brows raised and the ridge over Blackbird’s sockets high. This was certainly an unsurprising insight into the Patterns men’s lives, and Isaac behaving himself did seem out of character.

“Cellular phone seem the preferred means of human communication.” Blackbird added, smirk growing at the scowl his sarcasm had earned him.

Keeping the peace, Jennifer suggested, “If you’re worried, maybe you should invite yourself over to his house?” It seemed rational enough. They were brothers who lived in the same small town, after all. Jennifer had assumed they were rooming together or something until just then.

Jacob shifted on his feet a little. “I guess… It’s been a week… should be…” He mumbled.

Jennifer could only assume his hesitance had something to do with their personal history. She’d also thought Jacob was the sort to freely poke his nose in Isaac’s business for the sake of public safety and the good of humanity or something, but apparently that was as untrue as their rooming together. Rethinking previous assumptions.

“Thank you both.” Jacob said, giving them each a nod. “I’ve got more work. Can you lock up?”

“No problem.” Jennifer assured him. Blackbird scoffing at the question, as if Jacob were doubting Jennifer rather than being polite as usual.

“Afternoon, then.”

“Good afternoon.” Jennifer waved him off and Jacob left, still looking concerned about his brother.

After he’d left and the museum’s door closed behind him, Blackbird as if everything he’d come to trust about Jacob’s character had been shattered to reveal something hopelessly disappointing. “I had assumed he was taking a more active roll in managing his brother.”

Jennifer snorted, quickly covering her mouth before more laughter escaped as Blackbird frowned at her. Eventually she managed to control herself enough to agree, “Yeah, me too.”

Blackbird must have seen the humor of the situation as he allowed a smile before closing his book and setting to work stacking his books for Jennifer to put away. Jennifer made sure the cleaning equipment was away and the cash register was in sleep mode for the night. She made one last round of the museum, Blackbird now joining her rather than making his own patrols. Finally Jennifer turned out the lights and locked the building up tight before heading for the car.

The fastest route home from the museum was practically a straight line. Turn right from the parking lot onto main street, follow main street until it became the highway, take the turn for the county road, and a couple miles later was the turn off for the little cabin.

Lately, however, Jennifer had been turning left out of the parking lot. She had to drive around Hobbler a little more, but it was a nice town and she was happy to see more of it… though if anyone had straight asked her, Jennifer probably wouldn’t dismiss the suggestion that she was taking this new route because it didn’t pass directly in front of the burnt out church.

The rest of the drive was as usual, comfortably quiet as Jennifer focused on the road and Blackbird thought over his reading for the day. Jennifer enjoyed the silence, though she was surprised Blackbird never asked about the DEA agents the way he had the Game and Fish Department. Eventually she figured Blackbird was smart enough to figure it out for himself. Drug Enforcement Agents asking about drugs was pretty self-explanatory, especially for someone as brilliant as Blackbird.

Either that or the younger agent’s ignorance of laudanum and opium was just too much stupidity to bear and Blackbird was actively blocking the experience. If that was the case, Jennifer envied him.

They pulled into the little clearing as usual. Jennifer grabbed her bag and helped Blackbird up to her shoulder before heading inside. “I think it’s past time I took the scythe to this grass.” She announced. The average height of the plants was now up past her knees and she could feel the car fighting it some mornings. She probably should have done it last month.

“The scythe?” Blackbird asked. Almost immediately Jennifer heard a short intake of air. “Ah! The blade would cut the overgrowth very efficiently! Yes, I see.”

It had taken Jennifer a few hours research in high school to figure out what the hell a scythe was and what it was for outside of Halloween costumes. Blackbird figured it out on his own in less than a second.

Jennifer pulled the house key from her pocket and let them into the cabin. Before she’d even reached for the lights her phone went off and Jennifer snatched it out of her pocket, glancing at the collar ID before answering.

“Hey, boss. What’s up?”

“THE DAMNED IDIOT DROVE HIMSELF TO DENVER!”


	46. Burberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isaac's back, again.

“…sounds like him… yes ... We’ll both be here.” Jennifer lifted an eyebrow at Blackbird who looked questioningly back at her from the counter. “Uh huh, an hour? Okay, see you then. Bye.” She ended the call and set her phone on the counter. “They’re about fifty miles out and want to meet both of us here at the hotel.”

“The tailor is still injured. He should be going home to house arrest!” Blackbird declared irritably. Jennifer nodded her agreement. They shared a mutual sigh of resignation over the force that was Isaac Patterns. After a moment’s reflection Blackbird reclaimed Jennifer’s attention to the present. “Madam.”

“Yes?”

The Bitty very pointedly looked Jennifer over from head to toe and back up again. She’d been changing and answered the phone wearing thick cotton stockings, long shift, corset, and full petticoat. Blackbird’s eye lights sparkled -yes, _sparkled_ with amusement as he reported. “Scandalous.”

Covered in layers from her collarbone to the floor, Jennifer still turned pink. “Shut up.” She snapped, retreating to the storeroom to finish dressing.

Jacob had left on his wild Isaac hunt five days prior. This left Jennifer to handle all the guests and tourists on her own. It was more than she was strictly used to, but not more than she could handle -especially with the cause of most of the summer's emergencies off galivanting in Colorado. After she’d dressed and unlocked the doors, Ben Schildkraut came in. The helpful kid from the day of the Dining Room Disaster, he’d been in every week or so since. Ben went right to the guest registry to sign his name, stopped by the giftshop to bid Blackbird a good morning, then hurried up to the third floor.

“He seems a good kid.” Jennifer noted.

“One would hardly expect an unrepentant delinquent to frequent a museum.” Blackbird agreed.

They sat in silence for a moment. Blackbird had a book out as usual, but he was hardly even pretending to read, certainly not turning any pages. Jennifer pulled out the manual for the cash register to see if the computer needed to be defragged or something, but maintenance for the machine was automatic. Hotel was clean, giftshop was stocked, Ben didn’t need her help -by now he could probably do Jennifer’s job. He just needed a couple more inches to fit into the dresses…

Rather than letting her mind run someplace silly, she finally gave in an pulled out her own library book; Monstrous History, by Gerson Tortoise. Was that a common name, or was this guy just really busy?

So far, Jennifer had read about halfway through the history. The book began with the same almost fairytale quality description of the war between humans and monsters as had been in Eight Fallen Children. It would have been frustratingly patronizing, especially when the author barely took a more serious tone as the book progressed, but under a veneer of jocularity the story that unfolded was heartrending. When the barrier was erected, monsters lost everything; freedom, their recorded history, the bulk of their population, and very soon their culture. When monsters gained the courage or desperation to spread through the strange and beautiful biomes under Mount Ebott, what little they had taken with them from the surface was typically let go or left behind -sun touched memories too painful to hold in the dark.

The book should have been absorbing, but Jennifer still put it aside after just a couple more pages and glanced at the clock.

Not fifteen minutes had gone by.

Jennifer grabbed a rag from under the counter and set off to dust and polish the display cases. She already dusted that on a regular basis, but there were so many cases just a quick buff would kill plenty of time. She started on the third floor, nodding to Ben where he was sketching, and had moved to the second floor before she heard the front door open again. At first she hurried to the stairs, but in costume she had to check herself and descend safely.

Jacob had poked his head in and looked around. He saw Jennifer and nodded to her as she left the stairs. “Tour?” He asked.

Jennifer gave the dust rag a little flick. “No. It’s just Ben upstairs.”

“Fine boy.” Jacob grunted, then jerked his head. “Bringing Isaac and ‘friend’ in.”

“Do you need help?” Jacob grumbled in the negative before stepping out.

Jennifer hurried to the giftshop to toss the dust rag back under the counter and offered Blackbird a lift. The Bitty hadn't turned a single page in his book and was eager to climb aboard Jennifer's shoulder. The thought that he was more worried about Isaac than he’d been letting on made Jennifer’s mouth twitch, but she resisted the smile and returned to the front door instead, opening it wide and propping it open with a stone door stop carved by a local artist. Jacob pulled Isaac and his wheelchair backwards through the door, putting more effort into protecting his brother’s injured leg than Isaac did. Isaac was prattling on seemingly without a care in the world. “…show was hideous! Just bad movie villains and skater-boys from the 90’s. Really! The models positively stomped down the catwalk, is that how we were supposed to pass the year? But _Chanel!_ A rooftop catwalk and beautiful clothes that actually belong in the real world, and Jennie is such a dear…”

There was something about Isaac’s tone that had Jennifer and Blackbird quirking their heads until Jacob got his brother’s foot clear of the doorway and turned the wheelchair around.

Isaac had been talking to a Bitty on his shoulder.

A Boss type Bitty Bones. He had one red eye light, the other socket was empty and cracked twice, obviously from separate blows. One of the cracks ran up to a missing chip near the top of his skull. Despite his rough appearance, he wore a fluffy velvet dressing robe and moccasin slippers of the same material, indicating Isaac had made them in a hurry. The robe’s right sleeve was rolled up and buttoned just above where the elbow should have been. The Boss Bitty scowled at Jennifer and especially at Blackbird. Blackbird returned the gaze coolly.

Isaac himself was smiling as broadly as during his inspiration mania, but his eyes were clear. “My dears! You simply _must_ meet this charming fellow! He’s agreed to let me call him Burberry! Burberry, this is Ms. Jennifer, the summer intern at the Hobbler Hotel and Museum, and her friend Blackbird, the muse which eventually led me to meet you.”

“A pleasure.” Jennifer replied automatically. She glanced at Jacob. The big man huffed in general brotherly disapproval but nodded: Isaac was eating, sleeping, and not clean out of his mind when making recent decisions.

Blackbird, ever the pinnacle of charm, was silent. He and the new Bitty appeared to be trying to stare each other off their respective human’s shoulders. Jennifer hoped this was just an initial meeting thing, there were only a few weeks left in the summer and she didn’t want these two at each other’s metaphorical throats every time Isaac stopped by the museum.

Isaac… seemed oblivious. He had a carpet bag in his lap and began digging through it, pulling out large packages wrapped in cloth and tissue paper. “I decided to use my time off to visit the nearest Bitty Adoption Center.”

“Instead of resting.” Jacob growled. Isaac shrugged, Burberry held on tight, then returned to glaring at Blackbird.

“Nearest…?” Jennifer asked, but apparently nobody heard her.

Isaac ignored his brother even more easily than he ignored the Bitties’ staring contest. “My intention was to get measurements for as many different types of Bitties as possible, so as to expand my clothing line -which I did!” He trilled victoriously, holding up the familiar notebook he’d used to take Blackbird’s measurements. “But! More importantly, I met a wonderful individual who simply ran off with me. Don’t let anyone tell you I did the adopting; it was entirely Burberry’s idea.” Isaac tilted his head so he could smile affectionately at the Boss Bitty. Burberry readily abandoned whatever was going on between him and Blackbird to afford Isaac an approving nod.

Smiling a little more softly, Isaac returned to the packages, sorting through them and putting several back in the bag before settling on three and turning his attention to Blackbird. “As you can see, we are in urgent need of a splendid new wardrobe. I would like to have Burberry properly dressed sooner rather than later. Blackbird, would you be so kind as to help me?”

“You want my help sewing?” Blackbird asked.

“Yes.” Isaac said. He was still smiling, but his tone was firm. “More precisely, I would like to take you on as an apprentice. You already have the basic skills and consistency it typically takes young tailors and dressmakers years to develop. I believe in just a few weeks I could teach you everything you need to be a more than competent tailor…” He straightened further in his chair, smile turning cheeky as he held out the selected packages. “I’ve even brought gifts as bribery so don’t say no!”

But Blackbird was shaking his skull. “What use would such training be?” He scoffed.

Burberry was on his feet in an instant, holding onto Isaac’s ear for balance and subjecting the man to unintentional friendly fire as the Bitty snapped, “HOW DARE YOU INSULT THE VALUE OF AN APPRENTICESHIP TO THE COLONEL!!!”

“Colonel?” Jennifer asked. Jacob made some noise or another but aborted it by covering his face and shaking with suppressed laughter. Isaac kept smiling.

“HE IS A MASTER OF HIS TRADE REVERED FOR HUNDREDS OF LEAGUES FOR HIS SKILL AND KNOWLEDGE! AND DON’T THINK I DON’T KNOW WHO MADE THOSE CLOTHES YOU WEAR!! YOU SHOULD BE BEGGING HIM FOR THE OPPORTUNITY!!! INSOLENT, UNGRATEFUL WELP!!!”

Enough was too much. Now Blackbird was on his feet, not bothering to grab Jennifer for balance and scaring the dickens out of her even as he bellowed; “SILENCE CUR! I’M PERFECTLY AWARE OF YOUR IDIOT TAILOR’S REPUTE! IT IS YOU WHO ARE SPEAKING IN IGNORANCE!”

“NYEH! YOU DARE!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Burberry, everyone.  
Originally -for like, the entire previous year?- Isaac’s Bitty was going to be named Dior. Christian Dior was a resistance fighter during WWII. After the war, his service record helped catapult his brand beyond that of Coco Chanel, who had been a Nazi collaborator. This would appeal to Isaac’s love of clothes and history, and his Boss Bitty’s need to be tough.  
Then, just last week, I tripped over Thomas Burberry. Burberry specialized in outdoor gear. He discovered gaberdine and was the genius behind the trench coat. Also: I’m more obsessed with WWI than the sequel, so goodbye Dior, nothing personal. Hello Burberry! (Just changing the name has also slightly altered his personality... huh...)


	47. Like Civilized Monsters.

“Everyone takes turns to share their Sacred Point of View. _Only_ the person with the talking stick may speak. They pass the stick when they’ve said their full piece. Does everyone understand?” Jacob asked.

“Yes.” Isaac, Blackbird, and Burberry agreed. Isaac from his wheelchair, the Bitties from opposite ends of the giftshop counter. Jennifer stood behind the counter and didn’t reply.

After their third shouting match, both Bitties had been banned from human shoulders until two conditions were met: first they worked out the current issue and second Isaac and Jennifer reported that the ringing had stopped. Based on the way Jennifer was still rubbing at one ear with her finger and looking pained, the second condition was going to take a while. Jacob decided to assume she knew how talking sticks worked and handed the oversized ‘MONTANA!’ souvenir pen to Isaac.

Isaac gravely accepted the pen before turning to Blackbird. “It would be a privilege to teach you. I won’t accept ‘no’ until you’ve at least looked at the gifts I got for you, but if you still say ‘no’ afterward I’ll understand.” He set the tissue wrapped packages on the counter beside Blackbird, the pen on top.

Blackbird lifted the pen, setting one end against the wooden counter at his feet as if staking a claim on new lands. “The answer is still ‘no.’ There would be no point in such an endeavor. If you truly need help assembling a new wardrobe to properly cloth your charge, I will help, but the apprenticeship would be worthless.”

Burberry stomped one slippered foot, venting near silent fury. Blackbird tapped the pen on the counter authoritatively until the new Bitty settled, hand on his hip and fuming. “I’m well aware of the tailor’s skill in his field.” Blackbird finally continued. “As you pointed out; he has designed and sewn everything I wear. Doubtless you’ll see for yourself that these clothes are of the highest quality and exquisite design.” Isaac had been smiling before, but now he was starting to blush, too. “However, I fail to see why it would be of use for one such as myself to learn from him. To what end would this mastery lead?”

Jennifer was still rubbing her ear, but she frowned at Blackbird after that statement, clearly having heard him.

Blackbird dropped the pen, then used his boot to shove it across the counter toward Burberry. The Boss Bitty stopped the pen with his foot. He opened his jaw to speak but he seemed to lose the thread of whatever it was he’d wanted to say. After a moment he asked. “You meant no insult to my human?”

Blackbird rested his hands on his hips and considered Isaac at length. Burberry saw that the answer wasn’t a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ and scowled. He scowled a lot. Resting Bitch Face had nothing on this guy. Jennifer held out her hand and Burberry testily stepped back so she could take the pen, which she handed to Blackbird, saving them more pen soccer.

Accepting the talking stick, Blackbird responded, “I’ve known the tailor for the duration of the spring and summer. He’s irresponsible, crude, and reckless of both himself and those around him.” Isaac pouted. Jennifer and Jacob could only shrug at the accuracy of the statements, especially given the current situation. “_Your _human has already injured my human once!” Jacob and Burberry both startled. The Bitty’s frown deepened as the brother glowered at Isaac. Isaac looked horror struck, mouthing silent ‘…but…but…’ while Jennifer slapped a palm to her face. She then tried to wave the statement off, attempting to indicate without violating the rules of the talking <strike>pen</strike> stick that her injuries hadn’t been a big deal.

Blackbird continued. “You should be well aware that your human is very high maintenance and will require a great deal of care, management, and likely some form of corrective behavioral training.”

Burberry took this in thoughtfully. He pointed to the pen and Blackbird held it out to Jennifer, who obediently held it out to Burberry. The Boss Bitty rested his hand on the pen to indicate possession. Still, he took a moment to consider before speaking. “You meant no insult by refusing to apprenticeship to the Colonel?” He confirmed. Blackbird shook his head, brushing the idea away with a lordly wave of his hand. Burberry considered another moment before nodding. “Very well then. I will take your council concerning the Colonel’s discipline seriously. He’s certainly proven… capricious thus far.”

Isaac looked stunned, raising a hand to his chest as if checking for the barbs these two were shooting him with.

Jennifer tapped the pen with a finger. Burberry nodded to her and removed his hand, stepping back. Holding the talking stick more firmly, Jennifer turned to Blackbird. “What do you mean it would do you no good?” She demanded. “You like sewing, or at least, you like it enough to turn my pants into a casserole cozy and place mats!” Blackbird stiffly nodded, but then shrugged. “Then how can this not be good for you? I mean, besides it being _Isaac_,” Isaac was going to new lengths and depths of pouting at this point. “You’ll learn some new stuff and actually have something to do with your time.” Blackbird harrumphed, arms crossed and glancing off in disdain. “Don’t give me that. I know how you spend your time and how much energy you have. I can tell you’re bored.”

More huffing and a defiant glare. Jennifer set the pen at his feet but Blackbird just scowled at it, not picking it up.

After a minute, Isaac reached over for the pen. He lifted it but didn’t pull it toward him as he tried to smile gently at Blackbird. “Will you at least open the packages?” Isaac begged. “They’re yours, even if you don’t agree to apprenticeship. And I really would like your help with Burberry’s wardrobe, regardless.” He rested the pen on the counter again.

Reluctantly, no longer bothering with the pen, Blackbird huffed. “Very well. I will _look_ at the items, and then the matter will be dropped.”

Isaac straightened up, his grin coming back full force. Even Burberry and Jacob seemed intrigued as Blackbird finally relented and turned to the packages. He gave every impression of disdain and disinterest as he grabbed a corner of the linen covering the top item and began to peel it back.

The thin cloth had been protecting a single swatch of leather. It was irregularly shaped and maybe six square inches of surface area total. Despite having every intention of coming across aloof, Blackbird stiffened at the sight. He hardly seemed in control of himself as Blackbird reached over and slid one hand over the leather, then hooked his fingers under the edge and really felt the weight and suppleness of the material.

“Madam… feel this.” Blackbird ordered.

Jennifer’s eyebrows went up, but she did as she was told, carefully pinching a corner of the leather piece as if afraid of damaging it. “So soft…” She marveled. Incredibly soft, and thin, with just a little stretch… Jennifer wasn’t entirely versed in the ‘finer things’ but this was certainly the nicest material she’d ever touched.

Bewildered, she looked at Isaac, “This isn’t… it’s not Italian, is it?”

“No, no.” Isaac assured her. Just as she started to relax, he corrected, “It’s Bitty graded glove leather.”

“_What?!_” Jennifer dropped the corner and stepped away. Six months ago, she hadn’t known the stuff existed. Now she knew it was almost literally worth its weight in gold.

Isaac brushed her concerns off. “Don’t worry about it, love.” Jennifer was too worried about the leather to get after him about the pet name, but Burberry stomped again and Isaac winced, “No, my apologies Ms. Jennifer. As I was saying; I was visiting a friend in the fabric district and mentioned that I knew a Bitty who wanted to learn glove making. He gave this to me as a gift. It’s just a scrap to him, but I knew Blackbird could put it to good use.”

Blackbird pulled the swatch and the cloth it had come in aside, then looked under the tissue paper for the second package. Cotton squares printed with different micro patterns: more Bitty Cloth. The last package held small wooden spools of sleek thread in a variety of colors -silk.

Remembering what Isaac said about the leather, Jennifer hazarded a guess. “Are these samples?”

Isaac smiled, eyes a-twinkle at his own cleverness. “Yes.” For a professional tailor with design experience interested in opening a clothing line, even a Bitty clothing line, manufacturers would virtually throw samples at him, petitioning for his approval and potential profit margins. For him, these were just bits and bobs, but for Blackbird it was a windfall of high-quality sewing material. Better by far than throw away polyblend scraps and fifteen-year-old thread from a supermarket. Even the linen that protected the leather scrap was better than Blackbird had to practice on before.

Blackbird wrapped the patches, thread, and leather back up again, then turned to Isaac.

“I will help you dress your new charge, if you require the assistance. However, I have no use for further apprenticeship.”


	48. Taking 'No' For an Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not much, just a little insight.

Despite his claims to the contrary, Isaac did not take ‘no’ for an answer after Blackbird thrice rejected his offer.

He did, however, take, “STOP HARANGING HIM AND LEAVE NOW WITH SOMETHING RESEMBLING DIGNITY OR I SHALL BE FORCED TO TAKE THE STRICTEST CORRECTIVE ACTION!!” for an answer.

Jacob carefully wheeled his pouting brother out of the museum and settled the injured party and new Bitty in his car before returning to interrogate Jennifer. “Blackbird said you were hurt?”

Jennifer held up her hand, pointing with her other hand to the completely whole and unmarred palm. “Just some scratches! All healed!” She assured him. Some scratches, lots of scratches, some bruising, whatever. All healed was the truth, at least.

“Hmm.” Jacob didn’t sound convinced. He looked over her shoulder to where he could see Blackbird on the counter. The Bitty grumbled irritably and shook his head, unaware of any other injuries. Finally, Jacob sighed, “When I ask if you’re hurt, be honest.” He scolded.

Jennifer cringed, ashamed. “Sorry.”

The older man shook his head. “Do you need me to-”

“Stay home tomorrow.” Jennifer interrupted, “I can handle the museum for one more day while you get some rest.”

Jacob relaxed, relieved. He nodded, raised a hand to Blackbird, and turned to leave.

Jennifer couldn’t resist. “Enjoy your day… General.”

Jacob smirked over his shoulder and made as if to tip an invisible hat to her. “Madam.”

“Touché.” Jennifer allowed.

Jacob chortled as he left the museum.

As silence fell in the museum, Jennifer felt the awkwardness between her and Blackbird settle as well. The light, friendly atmosphere of the morning hadn’t been killed, but it had been weighed down.

Still, everyone had spoken their piece so there wasn’t any point pushing, now was there? Blackbird had the right to say no. Maybe he still wasn’t happy around Isaac, maybe he was more concerned about letting Isaac bond with his new Bitty than Burberry seemed to be, maybe it was just another facet of Blackbird that Jennifer didn’t know.

Jennifer retrieved the dust rag and went to finish with the display cases. Blackbird returned to his book -actually reading this time.

Whatever the reason for Blackbird’s decision, it was his decision. He was a grown adult… probably… and should have his decisions respected. Even if he did more than his fair share of the housecleaning while Jennifer slept. Maybe he enjoyed washing windows and dusting. Who was she to complain if he’d somehow polished the exterior of the brass tub? It wasn’t a bother that her internet video history kept recommending sewing tutorials. Nor was it inconvenient that her spices had been alphabetized or a thousand other ways the house just became tidier and tidier every time Jennifer woke up.

“Miss Jennifer?”

Jennifer looked up from her polishing with a smile. “What up, Ben? Need any help?”

The boy tilted his head curiously at her. “You were mumbling. Are you okay?”

Oops.

“Sorry about that, I was lost in thought. How’s the research coming?”

Ben jumped, then ducked his head sheepishly. “Oh, no… I’m not ‘researching’ anything. Just… hanging out. Doodling.” He held up his sketchpad, showing several images ranging from a very good reproduction of the stuffed masked shrew on display, to a sketch of Blackbird in the dress Jennifer was now wearing.

“Well crap. He looks better than I do.” Ben snorted hard and covered his face with his sketchpad. “Ah, that’s not very reassuring.” Jennifer teased, setting him off giggling. Deciding to let him off the hook, Jennifer went ahead and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Those are really good, though. You’ve got a lot of skill.”

“Heh, thanks.” Ben said modestly. The boy grabbed his bag from where he’d set it to check on Jennifer, then headed for the stairs -likely going home for lunch.

Jennifer watched him go, then sighed and glanced at the other displays left to dust. Heck, it wasn’t like she needed to dust them. Good enough. She trailed after Ben, planning to get out lunch for herself and Blackbird, then firmly take the matter of Blackbird’s rejected apprenticeship and _let it go._

For real this time.

Really.

~*~*~

Outside their former residences, human landscapers had buzzed through nearly every day of the week in summer months; trimming bushes, blowing the cuttings together, mowing, and mulching. In the winter, snow was removed from streets and sidewalks in a tidy, geometric pattern. It had made the world outside the windows look very orderly and controlled. Blackbird remembered approving of the tidiness before he’d become so thoroughly embittered against anything and everything having to do with the place.

Blackbird hadn’t considered Madam’s lack of any prior effort to cut the greenery around the cabin negligence. As the plants around the cabin grew taller and thicker, Blackbird had spent many an hour out there; finding countless varieties of plants instead of just Kentucky Blue grass, boxwood shrubs, and oak trees. There were wildflowers that attracted butterflies and dragonflies, ground vines that ants fear tread upon, even mosses and mushrooms. Wild, unkempt, diverse, and beautiful.

In that regard, Blackbird would admit the sight of the scythe blade finally hewing the plants into orderliness had been unfortunate. However, he understood the need. The untamed outdoors may have appeal, but they should remain _outdoors_. Even after closing all the burrows and holes under or near the cabin, the overgrowth of plants allowed easy incursion by wildlife.

Madam would likely remain happiest never knowing about the rat which once took advantage of her ‘open door policy.’

Blackbird watched as she worked her way in front of the cabin with the massive blade, turning the meadow once again into a true clearing. Perhaps she also felt the outdoors was better merely held back rather than tamed, because Madam made absolutely no effort to clean up the cuttings from her labors, besides picking up the odd wildflower which caught her attention. She’d let the field grow wild more than half the season, and Blackbird suspected the scythe would be put back in the pantry and abandoned for the duration of the season when she was finished. She was like that. Finish well what absolutely needed to be done, then let the rest go and enjoy a book.

Even if it bothered her.

Like now.

He could feel the dull hum of her confusion through their bond, a low note plucked on a string which sang without fading ever since he’d first turned down the tailor’s offer, and which hadn’t been silenced when he repeated his reasonings. Even the Boss had seemed to understand, but the humans were uniformly perplexed.

What was so difficult to understand? There was no point to mastering the art of tailoring. Blackbird had more clothes than he really needed, by far thanks entirely to Madam’s granting of inspiration to the idiot tailor. He needed no more, though there was now no reason to deny himself a fine set of gloves or five… Blackbird was still not quite used to the feel of air and food and whatnot in his carpals. Aside from that, however, what was the point? As Madam pointed out, it would only be for him to pass time that could be better spent.

His eye lights focused on the human near the trees, sliding her blade through the grass in an easy, rhythmic back and forth. She’d quite mastered the art in the last few days, leaving only a few unsightly furrows behind the cabin.

Madam had gone out of her way to provide him with a superior bed, clothes, and even monster candy to replenish his magic stores. Madam drew him a daily bath of well water and positive intent. She cooked foods, attentive to his preferences and comfort and Blackbird had noticed her new habit of drawing him close to her soul when assisting him from one location to another too briefly for him to alight on her shoulder.

And he tasted the bitter tang of disquiet when she collected purchase receipts to add them together or spent hours on her phone and then at the library computer lab.

No. Blackbird had no desire for a trifling hobby which would add to those purchase receipts. He would stick to scraps. Scraps certainly didn’t require mastery. The time he might spend stitching under the fool’s watchful eye was much better spent keeping an eye on Madam. She’d improved a great deal with her personal security but still needed minding for-

…**_fear!_**... Madam _screamed._

Blackbird was off the porch and racing through the cut grass -now trimmed to his waist- as Madam dropped her blade and retreated, clapping her hands to her mouth and dancing back on the balls of her feet.

He reached her side and looked around urgently for the cause of her alarm, a source of danger.

“…sorry.” Madam choked out, then huffed a giggle. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Blackbird glanced up and saw her looking at him, flushing and amused. “I nearly hit a snake. Just a garden snake.” She giggled. “Scared him as badly as he scared me.”

…_relief…embarrassed…affection…_

Blackbird shook his skull and waved off the half-summoned constructs he’d been ready to draw on. “Perhaps this is enough trimming?” He suggested, his own alarm likewise melting into amusement.

“Good plan.” Madam agreed, readily crouching to offer him a hand, which he accepted… and soon found himself held near her chest, close enough to feel her soul as she gathered the fallen scythe in one hand and returned to the cabin.

..._amused...contented... affection..._


	49. Taking Measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back by popular demand: The Tee Shirt Tent! Can I get a round of applause!  
*crickets*  
Well, I'm excited.

Madam’s professional smile and greeting died the moment she saw whom had entered the building. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting!”

The curator held up a placating hand. “Need the office, and Zac wants Blackbird to measure Burberry.” The Boss type on his shoulder nodded.

Today the monster wore a simple white tunic with trousers and delicate golden trim. The clothes would have been quite splendid for a common monster like the rude Fundyne, but Blackbird knew they would likely be sleepwear once the rest of the Boss’s wardrobe was completed. Across his lap rested a long paper parcel.

“Pray tell, why would it be necessary for me to personally take his measurements?” Blackbird demanded, not yet bothering to close his book.

“Because the Colonel is a manipulative tactician who intends to teach you everything possible within the confines of your agreement -starting with the basics.” Came the other’s blunt reply. When the curator lifted a hand to the Boss, the little monster pushed off the human’s shoulder with a foot, using his single arm to hold his roll of papers securely. “Further, the Colonel plans for much of my wardrobe to be styled in a manner requiring precision, for which appropriately sized assistance is necessary.” The curator helped the Boss to the counter with a tilt of the hand. Once he had his footing, the Boss nodded a dismissal to the human, who appeared amused as he stepped back.

“I’ll bring lunch when I pick up Burberry.” The curator excused himself.

“Very well.” The Boss Bitty agreed. Blackbird nodded and waved the curator off.

“Take it easy.” Madam agreed reluctantly, still worried for her employer. She retrieved a few items from around the giftshop and again erected a privacy shelter with one of the souvenir shirts. Blackbird reluctantly closed his book and slid it aside while the Boss unrolled his parcel to reveal not just the papers and notes, but also string, a small ruler, and a mechanical pencil.

Madam made sure everything was in place before taking up the push sweeper for the carpets. “Do you guys need me to hang around or can you manage without any more fights?”

“You plan on leaving?” The boss questioned, looking from Blackbird to Madam some confusion. “But if she leaves, who will write my measurements? The Colonel specifically ordered for a written copy to be sent to him!”

“Oh.” Madam hesitated, brow furrowing in that way that she had when realizing she’d forgotten something. “I’ve never… Blackbird, can you write?”

Blackbird considered amusement, pride, or offense, and chose to remain neutral, settling his hands on his hips. “Yes, I can write.” He assured his human. “I’ll have you know my handwriting is perfectly elegant and legible even when enlarged for humans to read, as you shall see shortly. Now, tend to whatever matters you need and let me work.” With a gesture he shooed her off. She seemed relieved as she obeyed.

The Boss regarded Blackbird with new respect and caution -as was only fitting. Blackbird was certainly due both. “You can write.”

“Yes, I can write.” Blackbird snorted. “Did you think I just said as much to impress Madam?” He arranged the ruler and a magnet to weigh the papers down and prevent them from rolling again.

“Your Bitty Center taught you?”

Blackbird afforded the Boss a bemused look. “You assume I ever set foot inside an adoption center.” Smug, he added, “No, I taught myself to read and write. What better teacher could one ask for?” Any teacher. Almost any teacher would have been better than struggling to piece together fragments and apply them to discarded manuals and food labels.

"Never..." The Boss cast skeptical looks between him and the door Madam had left half closed. “No. Your human isn’t the sort. How did you get out without being remanded to a center for rehabilitation?”

Blackbird lifted the mechanical pencil and yanked out the eraser. “The same way I learned to read; by myself.” He tilted the entire contraption until the graphite slid out.

“Nobody just escapes.” The Boss scoffed. He moved his arm across his chest in a shadow of an old gesture, then let the hand fall to his side.

Selecting a stick, Blackbird tapped it against the palm of one hand while he regarded the Boss. “I was a trophy.” He admitted. “My former owners firmly believed trophies belonged on a shelf for all to see.”

Understanding dawned. “You weren’t locked up.”

“Not usually.” Blackbird agreed. He summoned a small, sharp bone and began trimming the graphite to a better point.

“Does your human know?”

Blackbird stopped trimming and grinned at the Boss -eye sockets empty and magic on a hair trigger. “No. And she’d not going to.”

The Boss wasn’t intimidated, but he nodded. “Not from me.” He promised easily.

“Then we understand each other.” Blackbird blinked, reigniting his eye lights allowing his magic to flow more placidly as he set the graphite stick aside in favor of the string. He waved the Boss into the privacy shelter to avoid embarrassment should Madam need to return to the giftshop.

Imitating the tailor’s sure movements and commands, Blackbird collected the listed measurements, comparing the string to the ruler before recording the numbers under the Boss’s envious watch. Side seam, inseam, shoulders, arm length, wrist, chest, waist, hips, foot length, width, and outlines. The Boss grumbled in irritation when Blackbird collected precise measurements of his stump arm, but didn’t resist.

Once Blackbird took measurements for both the skeleton and the magic aura -or 'second body'- that left the neck circumference and the skull's hat measurement. The Boss’s shoulders had been enough trouble for Blackbird to measure but his neck and skull were definitely out of reach... and the insufferable Boss knew it. A slow smirk crawled over the Boss’s serrated teeth. “Would you like me to kneel?” He offered, voice venomous-sweet.

Blackbird scowled at the mockery, then allowed a smirk of his own. “Yes. Just kneeling, however. I don’t require full prostration.”

Petulant over the comeback, the Boss instead chose to fall directly into a seated position, forcing Blackbird to crouch to collect the last two measurements. It was childish, but in Blackbird’s experience, all Bosses variants were.

As he wrote down the measurements, then slid out the second sheet of paper to copy everything down, Blackbird was acutely aware of the other monster’s attention. He considered for a few moments, then decided to do what he believed would make Madam smile, should she find out. “The humans’ English writing system has twenty-six letters that mix to make roughly forty-four spoken sounds. There are also ten numbers for calculating sums and such. Once you learn the letters, sounds, and numbers, the puzzle is already solved. Just a matter of practice.”

“Your human appears to be competent with technology, he can use the internet to find you videos and worksheets necessary to learn.”

The Boss straightened in surprise and alarm, then scowled and opened his mouth to snap something out before growling and closing his eye sockets and mouth, visibly reigning himself in before opening his mouth again. “Thank you.” He spoke as if the words were in an alien language, dropping from between his teeth like hot coals.

Blackbird nodded his acceptance of the gratitude. He rolled the supplies sent by the tailor in one sheet of paper and bound them in string before handing the parcel to the Bo- to Burberry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hammering out the next chapter and should have it out before Halloween is over. Double post for the holiday, and because Jennifer's greatest fear returns to haunt her...


	50. S is for Stress

A Reminder to our Valued Patrons!

The Historic Hobbler Hotel and Museum

Will require reservations starting:

September 1st

Jennifer stepped into the museum and closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing until her stomach stopped churning. Less than thirty days. None of the applications and resumes she’d been sending out since June had received any kind of reply and her intern job ended in less than a month.

Some of it made sense. Her resume was likely thrown out of most places for whatever in-house reasons. Her state of legal residency and her driver’s license didn’t match her state of physical address; full time positions wanted all of that to line up. They didn’t like employment gaps. Jobs wanted a driving record that was less than two weeks out of date; they didn’t want to wait for a state bureaucracy that was decades out of date and still relied on _fax machines_ to communicate and then sent records by snail mail. They probably didn’t like that her current job position was Intern for a career path she didn’t have a degree in. They didn’t like personal reference numbers to foreign countries. Employers wanted employees who were uncomplicated and reliable.

Dammit. Jennifer _was_ reliable! It wasn’t her fault her records were too complicated to prove it!

This line of thought wasn’t settling her stomach.

“Madam?” Blackbird’s call was like a lid over her emotional stove fire, immediately stifling the worst of it and allowing her to shove the rest in a corner where it could <strike>hopefully</strike> suffocate itself. Easier to ignore, especially when overcome by the more immediate concern; Blackbird had never called out to her at work before.

“I’m here.” Jennifer responded, heading for the gift shop.

Nothing seemed out of place. On the counter, Blackbird stood on a stair stack of cheap erasers, draping cloth around Burberry’s ribcage. Blackbird had paused in his work and was staring intently at Jennifer as if she’d had the audacity to take a shower with the bathroom and front doors open while his burritos burned in the oven. “Blackbird?”

“I heard someone come in.” Blackbird replied evenly.

“That was just me.”

“Very well, my mistake.” Blackbird nodded and returned to baste stitching Burberry’s new vest. Jennifer lifted an eyebrow, bemused by the strange behavior.

“That settled.” Isaac spoke up from his wheelchair, “I guess we can continue?”

Jennifer made a ‘go ahead’ gesture, settling to rest against a wall and enjoy the scene in front of her. Isaac pulled a large card from the deck in his hand and held it up for Burberry. “E.” Isaac flipped the card and the Bitty regarded it for a moment before announcing, “Egg. Egg starts with E.”

“Egg-zactly.” Isaac cheered, putting the card on the counter next to a few others. Blackbird leaned out from behind Burberry and the two shot looks of pure acid at the man. Unrepentant, Isaac flipped up the next card.

“R... Round. Round starts with R.” Burberry recited dutifully.

“Good.” Isaac said, laying off the puns and setting the R on the counter before holding up the next.

“R...again.” Burberry noted, not sounding enthusiastic. He was less enthused when Isaac flipped the card to reveal a scrap of magazine page had been taped over the original image. Still he gave the scrap his attention before discovering its secrets and Isaac’s intent. “Ruffles!”

“Yes!” Isaac agreed, chortling as he set the card on the table. “Okay, the last one’s a little hard, we only went over it yesterday.” He warned, then held up the next card.

Burberry’s eye sockets widened when he saw the letter, then narrowed as he focused. “That is the letter... Y! It is the letter Y!” He announced in triumph.

“Yes! Yes, it is!” Isaac congratulated his Bitty, who managed to stand straighter despite already perfect posture. Behind Burberry, Blackbird was nodding as if unaware of the gesture, and though she had nothing to do with Burberry’s progress, Jennifer felt a swell of pride at Burberry’s progress as well. “Now.” Isaac announced, nearly vibrating with energy. “Bonus round. It’s going to be difficult, but you know the basic groundwork so I think you can do it. Ready to try?”

Burberry nodded confidently. “I will master any challenge, Colonel!”

Isaac tapped the counter beside the cards he’d been laying out. “These eight letters spell a single word. You know what all these letters sound like. Can you put them together to read this word?”

Burberry’s sockets widened as the looked the cards over and took them in as a possible whole. He looked back and forth a couple times, intimidated by the size of the word, then frowned and focused, pointing to each letter and sounding it out silently, his teeth barely moving. Blackbird stopped working on his vest so as not to distract the taller Bitty. Burberry reached the end of the word, then went back to the start, pointing and sounding a little faster this time. Finally, he lowered his hand and looked up at Isaac with something very close to awe. “... it’s me. This is my name.”

Isaac’s smile was boundless, his eyes sparkling with pride. “Yes, it is.”

Burberry flinched when he felt the first clap on his shoulder, but the second one without harmful intent caused him to relax, accepting Blackbird’s silent congratulations as Jennifer danced a brief victory dance, hooped skirt bouncing scandalously.

A knock on the main door ended the moment and Jennifer went to answer while Isaac collected the flashcards and started chatting with Blackbird about trousers.

At the door stood an uncertain young woman in the USPS uniform, complete with letter bag. She was looking up at the hotel when Jennifer opened the door and gaped for a moment at the gown before collecting herself. “I have mail for the Head Curator?” Despite the envelopes in her hand, she was asking a question more than announcing it.

“Oh, new route?” Jennifer guessed.

“Yes... there’s no address on this building, but it’s the hotel? So?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jennifer assured the new carrier. “Usually envelopes and small packages go to Jacob Patterns in the basement of City Hall... just a minute.” She ducked inside and called, “Isaac? I’m showing someone the office, can you hold the fort?”

“Take your time, dear.”

Jennifer stepped outside, ignoring the newly posted notice as she closed the door. “Okay, large packages come here, but small packages go this way.” She explained, leading the way across the parking lot.

The mail carrier sheepishly followed. “Do you, uh, usually dress like...”

“It’s a costume for work.” Jennifer explained. “But when you meet Mr. Patterns; yes, he does usually dress like that.” Both Mr. Patterns usually dressed like ‘that.’

Now, when Jessica spoke to women, the second question was usually... “Are they really making you wear a corset?” Yup. Predictable.

“Yes. Actually, I’m thinking of finding a way to make the switch permanent.” Jennifer fibbed. She wasn’t a fan of the full corset, but as the summer wore on she was less and less happy to change into the modern equivalent.

“But... can’t you breath?” Third question, right on schedule.

“Yep. I can carry heavy things, climb the stairs, and even sing off key.” Jennifer assured her. They reached the side door to City Hall and Jennifer smirked at the mail carrier before opening it, “Best part is; it doesn’t even chaff.” Like a dozen or more women before her, the mail carrier’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ and her eyes trailed off to one side as she made the comparison to her own clothing.

Yes, being an educator was a rewarding experience.

Jennifer led the carrier down the stairs to Jacob’s office. He wasn’t there, probably in the archive, but Jennifer still pointed out the rack where Jacob liked to receive his mail and the carrier dutifully placed her stack of envelopes there before pausing and fishing out a formerly white envelope that had gotten dirty and was plastered with a couple forwarding addresses and a ‘return to sender’ sticker. “Are you Jennifer?” The carrier asked, checking the envelope.

“Yes.”

The mail carrier smiled, a proud smile not too different than Burberry’s when he mastered the letter Y. “Great, this is yours then.” She handed Jennifer the envelope, then turned and headed back toward the exit with a cheerful wave. Jennifer returned the wave, then looked the envelope over.

It was from the Department of Transportation where her car was registered.

Jennifer didn’t bother to open the envelope. She just stuffed it in the waistband of her gown to deal with later.


End file.
